Melting
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Set after the events of Revulsion, specifically, "Does this mean you're too tired to meet later? In my quarters?" This is my answer to that moment. Tom and B'Elanna, and the start of their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings, everyone! So, it seems that I've decided that, almost 20 years after_ Day Of Honor _and_ Revulsion _aired, I needed to put in my two cents (that's right—I'm that old and still into the fandom). I actually started writing this about a year ago and got just a few pages into it, and most of that was notes. A year later, I picked it back up and we're around 40 pages now. I'm still finishing it up, but it shouldn't be much longer than that. I didn't expect it to be a monster of a story, but it happens sometimes, and I hope it's all worth reading. I had to find places to make breaks, again, because I didn't set out for it to be multiple chapters, so if it seems like it just stops at times, that's why. I also write in the present tense, as you'll find out. Don't know why. It just works for me. Please enjoy the story!_

Our bodies are pressed together. Tom is kissing my neck. He likes to do that. My memories of going through the pon farr are fuzzy, but I do remember him kissing my neck an awful lot.

A shiver runs through my entire body, and a smile breaks out across my face.

He's really good at it.

I can feel him smile against my skin as his lips work their way back up to my mouth, kissing me tenderly. I moan in the back of my throat, my fingers digging into his back to keep him close to me. I must be hurting him. I _have_ to be hurting him. He hasn't said anything, though. He hasn't so much as flinched. Maybe he's made of tougher stuff than I ever expected.

I slide a hand beneath his undershirt, dragging my nails up and down his back a few times before I push the shirt up to his shoulders—most of our clothing disappeared some time ago, the need to remove barriers, both literally and figuratively, overwhelming. He leans up a little and I swallow in anticipation, but he just grabs my hands and pulls them to his chest.

"What's the rush?" he whispers.

"Rush?" I ask with a laugh. "We've been dating for months. I'd hardly call this rushing anything."

"So we were dating, were we?" he teases. "Never knew it on my end."

"Well, Tom, we had lunch or dinner together nearly every day, usually without anyone else around. I don't know what else to call it," I answer, sarcasm dripping from my voice. I credit him with that particular trait.

He leans down and kisses me softly. "Just never thought I'd hear you admit to us actually _dating_. Still…doesn't mean I want to rush this moment." He lies against me gently, wrapping his arms around me. "Will you think less of me if I tell you I just want to be with you like this for a little while?"

I take in a long, slow breath and release it just as carefully, bringing myself back under control. "No, of course I won't think less of you." The man has been endlessly patient with me for months—how could I not be the same for him now?

He traces his fingers down the side of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. My entire body vibrates, surprise rolling through me. I'm not used to a simple gesture like that making me feel more things than I have in entire relationships.

What does this man do to me? _How_ does he do it to me?

"We only get one first time, B'Elanna," he tells me softly, his usually pale blue eyes startlingly dark as he gazes down at me.

"And you want it to be special?" I ask slowly.

His brow furrows in confusion. "Don't you want it to be?"

I shrug. "I've never thought of it that way, I guess."

"Ouch."

I laugh a little, leaning up to kiss him. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

He tightens his grip on me, chasing after my lips and kissing me slowly. Truthfully, the "romance" aspect of relationships has always escaped me, and I've certainly never really considered taking my time when the clothes _do_ come off. And it's definitely not the case that sex hasn't been enjoyable thus far, because I usually have a good time. Even with the human guys I've been with—it's usually pretty obvious they've read one too many books about Klingons and their mating habits, but it's always sort of fun to go along with it. The couple of Klingon men I've been with haven't exactly taken it easy on me, either, usually laughing at me initially for thinking someone with only half of their blood could keep up with them, then being pleasantly surprised when I did.

I've only really started delving into the world of romance since Tom started chasing after me. Actually, it was when he showed that he was going to keep chasing me. "Romance" is hard to pin down, though, and asking the computer to run a search on the subject nearly caused a system overload. I tried reading a few human novels on the subject, but the sentiment and…and… _schmaltz_ was completely overwhelming and nauseating. That was why I turned to Klingon romance novels, and those were easier to stomach. Some were even downright fascinating. I hate to admit that I was a little touched when Tom decided to read one for tips.

This guy is really dedicated to the cause.

His fingers slide beneath my undershirt and my skin tingles everywhere. My body's reaction to him is completely unprecedented.

His lips trail down my neck again, nipping at the skin as he goes. It doesn't hurt, but it definitely sends fire shooting through my veins. What did I do to deserve someone like him?

"Why do you love me?" I ask suddenly, my insecure human side rearing her ugly head.

He stops completely, slowly lifting his head. "What?"

"Why do you love me?"

"What makes you think I love you?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes. True, he hasn't said it yet, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. I know he does. Honestly, I don't need to hear it right now, not if he's not ready to say it. I'm not going to force it out of him, but…I know he does.

"I'm a terrible person, and I'm always so horrible to you—"

"You're not horrible to me. You're horrible to yourself and sometimes it just…overflows. You're a _good person_ , B'Elanna. You're loyal and honest to a fault, and you're the smartest person I've ever met, but you just expect too much out of yourself. That doesn't mean you're terrible—you just get upset when you feel like you fall short of where you should be."

"How do you know all this about me?"

"I've spent a lot of time with you the last few years, and I've spent even more time thinking about you. You're such a puzzle to me, and endlessly fascinating."

"That's not the first time you've said that. What is it about me that's so fascinating?"

"I don't know—maybe the fact that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, but you have no idea that you're even pretty."

"Tom…"

"You think no one likes you, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Everyone thinks you're pretty great, but I guess some people think you're a little, well, scary."

I can't help but grin at that. "Good. It wouldn't do to have everyone thinking I'm a giant pushover and that all I need is a few kind words and sweet sentiments to turn into a puddle of goo."

"A puddle of goo, huh?" I wiggle against him just a little bit, and his entire body tenses. My mouth makes its way to his neck and I nibble just on the other side of gently on his tender flesh. I have to admit—I _do_ like this part. I've kept Tom at a distance for while, keeping our clothes on and never giving us a chance to really be alone for any significant length of time, but we _have_ done a fair amount of kissing. Honestly, that's never been my favorite part of the whole courting/dating thing, but that was before I kissed Tom. I don't include the any time I might have kissed him while doped up on Vulcan hormones—I have vague recollections of it, but nothing concrete. However, when I finally decided it might not be the worst thing to let this guy take me to dinner and court me relentlessly, kissing was definitely part of the package.

I know I shocked the hell out of him the first time it happened. I surprised myself a little, too. It's not as if I planned it. But we'd gone to dinner, we'd spent a few hours sailing on Lake Como on the holodeck, we'd had a couple glasses of wine, and he walked me home and…I couldn't help myself. He was so sweet and so, for lack of a better term, gentlemanly, and he had no expectations. I think he was afraid to hope for too much. I hadn't been completely receptive to his advances before that point, so I don't know that I blame him. He was very gallant that night, though, and so tentative as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands while walking me to my door. I think he was afraid that I would bolt at any moment, and I can't say that I blame him for that. And I'd like to blame the wine for my actions, but I didn't have nearly enough that night to come close to clouding my inhibitions. It was definitely all me.

He was all set to drop me off and ask for another date, but all I could do was smell him. Not his aftershave or soap, but _him_. Whatever it is that makes him unique. Whatever it is that made set my sights on him when I had the pon farr. Something about his scent is completely irresistible and for the first time, I didn't fight it. I stood on tiptoe, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He didn't resist.

I didn't kiss him for hours or anything like that, but I think I kissed him long enough to let him know that he wasn't wasting his time with me. He definitely staggered for a few steps after that, too, before he regained his footing enough to walk to the turbo lift. After that, well, we didn't kiss at _every_ opportunity, but it definitely happened after our dates, any time he'd walk me to my quarters or we parted ways. We didn't do it publically—exchanging saliva in the mess hall didn't seem like the smartest way to keep our blossoming relationship under wraps—but we didn't exactly do it in private, either. I wasn't entirely sure if kissing him in the comfort of someone's quarters would lead to something more, but I did know that I wasn't ready for that. Taking my time with him felt important. If what we were trying to become didn't work out, I didn't want it to end on horrible terms. We have a very long time left on this ship, and we work in together in close confines all the time.

What's really amazing is that he didn't push. He didn't try to steer me into his quarters or mine, though he would occasionally put the offer out there, just to check. His hands wouldn't wander unless mine did first, he let me take the lead and followed along quite happily. The only thing he would do that I didn't initiate was hold my hand. Not surprisingly, that was the gesture that made me the most uncomfortable. I didn't usually stop him from doing it, but that sort of casual affection wasn't something I'd ever done. He wouldn't even really do it publically, but if we happened to be sitting next to each other in the mess hall, his hand would inevitably find mine under the table. He started holding my hand when walking me home at night, and I, occasionally, stopped shrugging it away when we heard someone else walking through the corridors.

It's an interesting path we've been on.

"Where are you?"

His voice startles me out of my thoughts, and even though I haven't stopped working on his neck, it's been in a very distracted sort of way.

"Thinking about us, actually." He puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls away, looking at me skeptically, and makes me break out into laughter. "No, really."

"Do I even want to know?"

I scrunch up my face, trying to make a big show of thinking it over, and he digs his fingers into my sides, right at the edge of my ribs, managing to find just about the only ticklish spot on my body. I laugh in shock and my body twists, bucking so hard that Tom actually falls off the bed. Naturally, that makes me laugh even harder. I manage to crawl over to the side of the bed to find him propped up on his elbows, glaring at me. He's struggling not to laugh at the same time, so it's hard to take him too seriously.

"Are you okay?" I ask, trying to stifle my mirth just a little.

"This is really romantic for our first time," he answers, his lips actually forming a pout.

"But it's memorable, right?" Laughter bursts out of me again and I reach for him, dragging his face to mine. "I know I'll never forget this."

He rolls his eyes but I don't give him a chance to say anything before pressing my lips to his. He cups my face a moment later, and I feel him shifting about as he moves to his knees, crawling closer to the bed. This sort of thing—laughing so hard that I actually kick someone off the bed—isn't exactly typical for me, but I don't hate it. If it were with anyone but Tom, I'd be mortified.

He shifts again, and somehow manages to climb back onto my bed, keeping our lips fused together. We both wind up in a kneeling position, and I hear myself growl way in the back of my throat at the feel of him pressing insistently into my stomach. I grab his hips and keep him close to me, nibbling at his lower lip.

Somehow, he comes up for air, gasping just a little. He presses his forehead to mine and I open my eyes. I can see him smiling at me from this angle, and he reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"You don't have to romance me, you know," I finally whisper, managing to surprise myself. I didn't plan to say that.

He pulls back, his face crinkling in confusion. "Why would you think I _have_ _to_? B'Elanna, I _want_ to romance you. I would hope that's been pretty obvious by now."

"Yeah, but…weren't you just doing that to get me to this point?"

His eyes grow wide, and he pulls back even further. "What? You think I've been chasing after you just to get you into _bed_?"

I feel my own eyes growing wide and I shake my head. "That didn't come out the way I meant it."

"B'Elanna, you're not some sort of conquest for me."

"I know that," I answer, rushing to reassure him. At least, I'm pretty sure I know that. "I just mean…you've done all that work to get me here, and now that we _are_ here, there's no need to do all… _this_. You've got me."

"Look—I don't know what sort of people you've been with up to this point. I would imagine, though, there must have been a couple of guys who thought you were some sort of novelty." To put it mildly. "I would also suspect that these were guys who'd read a lot of stereotypical stuff about Klingon women and their mating habits and went after you that way."

I sit back on my haunches and shrug. "You might not be that far off the mark."

"Well, I don't want us to be like anything we've done in the past. I don't want to rush the moment, like I've done so many times before. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to put on some sort of show for me. I just want us to be _us_."

I nod slowly, scooting just a little bit closer to him. "I think I'd like that."

He presses a gentle kiss to my lips, lingering for just a few moments before he pulls away, his hands sliding down to my hips and grabbing gently. "I've been waiting to romance you for ages now. Hell, this is my favorite part."

"Is it?" I ask, my tone skeptical even to my ears.

"Oh, yeah. The kissing." His buries his face in my neck again, his mouth caressing me gently. "The touching." His hand slides under the edge of my tank top, running delicately up the pronounced ridges on my back, and my entire body shudders. "All of it. I love it."

"Oh," I say weakly, clearing my throat. "Well, I know that human women can actually need that sort of foreplay, but I don't. Klingon women are built for sex." There aren't many times I'm grateful to be part Klingon, or that I appreciate any of the traits I have, but this is one of them. It's made my sex life a hell of a lot more satisfying.

"Well, you may not _need_ it but…do you _want_ it?"

I pause, taking time to genuinely consider it. True, I may not need the foreplay human women do, but so far, it's been a lot fun. Tom does have a point—we only get to have this moment once. This is a bigger deal than other "relationships" I've been in, and I want to savor it. "I do."

A/N…so there's chapter 1! If the mood strikes you, please let me know what you think. I love feedback (except the douchy kind—I mean, c'mon. I'm just writing fanfic over here), so reviews and PMs are always happily received. I suck at responding to them, though. If you're looking for a response or want to chat with me, definitely just let me know. I don't pick up on hints, unfortunately.

Also, the rating will go up on this shortly, but I figured I'd get a few more people hooked if I didn't jump right into the dirty rating.


	2. Chapter 2

*It should be noted that my updates are sporadic because I'm unable to get online with anything other than my phone most of the time. On that note, though, he's the next installment*

* * *

I pause, taking time to genuinely consider it. True, I may not need the foreplay human women do, but so far, it's been a lot fun. Tom does have a point—we only get to have this moment once. This is a bigger deal than other "relationships" I've been in, and I want to savor it. "I do."

That's definitely the answer he wanted. He grins from ear to ear, wrapping his arms around me as our lips find each other's again. Not surprisingly, he's really good at kissing. Of course, I had an inkling about that before now, but the kissing we did previously is nothing compared to tonight.

I give him a little push, and he falls back willingly, sprawling onto the bed gracelessly. I crawl after him, draping my body over his. I adjust my hips, watching his face contort as I rub against him just a little. "B'Elannaaaaa," he moans, and I shift again, enjoying the reaction. I grab the edge of his shirt and tug it up, yanking it over his head before he can protest.

His smell hits me like a phaser blast and I take a deep breath, my eyes falling shut. He smells amazing. _Amazing_. Usually, I can pick up his scent no matter what, even in the middle of the crowded mess hall, and it's like a gentle presence. It's reassuring. But I've never smelled him bare-chested. It's more potent and a hell of a lot more intoxicating. I feel my insides quivering. I bury my face against his chest, licking and sucking at every piece of skin I can find. I suddenly feel desperate for him, and I marvel for just a few moments at how fast I'm able to shift gears, going from insecure to horny in a nanosecond.

I always forget just how sensitive my sense of smell is until moments like this, but I can honestly say that I've never fixated on a scent the way I have with Tom's.

I feel myself growl from deep within somewhere. My brain barely has time to register that growling is exactly the sort of behavior I try to avoid as I make my way back up his chest, pressing my lips to his in a frenzy. His fingers dig into my thighs and I smile against his mouth. I tighten my knees against his sides and he gasps, his chest moving rapidly beneath mine. I want him. I want him like I've never wanted anything before. I work my way over his jaw, my teeth digging into the tender flesh of his cheek, and I realize he's stopped responding. I lift my head to stare at him, shocked. He gazes back at me, panting, his eyes dark and hazy, unfocused.

"What's wrong?" I finally ask, panic and concern fighting for prominence. Did I scare him? Did I hurt him? Is he completely horrified by me?

"Nothing," he answers softly, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear.

"No, really." If this isn't what he wants, we need to stop this now.

He gives me a half smile, looking sheepish. "I'm afraid to move."

"You're afraid to _move_?" That's a new one.

He chuckles regretfully. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself."

It takes a few moments, but brain finally starts to connect the dots. "Oh."

"Yeah. It's been a while since I had sex."

I snort and push myself into a seated position on his lap, crossing my arms. "Right, Tom."

His eyes grow wide for a few moments, and I suppose the view from his angle, despite the fact that I'm still wearing my underwear, probably isn't helping his situation. "I've struck out a lot, B'Elanna."

"It's a small ship—it can't all be rumors."

At least he doesn't insult my intelligence by lying to me.

"No, they're not, but I've still struck out more times than not, and, you know, it's been more than a year since I last had sex."

 _That_ gets my attention. "A year?"

"Do you really think I would pursue you as vigorously as I have and chase other women at the same time?"

Truthfully, I never really gave it that much thought. "I suppose I assumed that you were keeping your options open."

"I may be a pig, but I'm a one-woman pig. Just because progress with you has been slow doesn't mean I've been bumping uglies with anyone else."

"Bumping uglies? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He gives me a look of mock exasperation. "It's a childish euphemism for sex I picked up somewhere along the way, and I haven't done that with anyone for a long time. Hell, I haven't _wanted_ to do that with anyone else for a long time. You've been the only one I wanted for…I don't even know how long at this point. Regardless, it's been a while, and I was getting worked up way too fast. The last thing I want to do right now is act like some horny teenager in front of you, and I definitely don't recover the way I did back then."

"If it's been a year, don't you have anything in reserves?"

His hands move up to my legs, his fingers gently stroking my thighs, and I take that as a good sign. "Most likely, but I still don't recover as fast." His forehead crinkles up and he tilts his head, giving me a funny look. "Hey—have _you_ been keeping your options open?"

"You mean, have I slept with anyone else lately? Well, as much as I enjoy the thought of being part of the rumor mill, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that I haven't."

"Aren't you…I don't know, hornier than hell?"

"Now that you mention it…" I rock my hips against his a couple of times, enjoying the way his eyes roll back into his head. "There's this thing called the holodeck, Tom. You should try it out. You can be as promiscuous as you want without any repercussions."

"And have you been—" He pauses, his breathing ragged as he tries to regain his composure. "Have you been promiscuous on the holodeck?"

"Is this really stuff you want to know about right now?"

"Honestly, I'm just trying to distract myself. I think I still need some more time." He shrugs at my unasked question, not looking the least bit embarrassed. "Like I said, it's been a long time, not to mention that I'm actually in bed with _you_. Can we just…talk for a little while?"

"Talk," I repeat. _Humans_ , I think to myself teasingly. I slide off his lap and stretch out on the bed next to him, propping my head up in my hand. "Sure. What did you want to talk about?"

He takes a few deep breaths and I glance down his body, his erection still impressively tenting his shorts. Without thinking about it, my hand reaches out toward him, curious about how he'll feel in my hand, when he grabs my wrist. His grip is surprisingly tight. I give my arm a few tugs but he manages to hold on, not letting my wandering hands anywhere near him. My desire and anticipation levels rise to almost dangerous levels so I take a few deep breaths myself. This is going to be better than I ever expected.

I glance back up at him and we stare at each other for a few moments, waiting. Finally, he smiles at me and brings my hand to his lips, kissing my palm before resting it on his chest. He turns onto his side and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close enough so that our heads are sharing a pillow. The moment is surreal. A few weeks ago, I never let myself think much about being with Tom. I was still working very hard at suppressing every single feeling I have for him, and even when I did allow myself to think of him as something more than my friend, I certainly never let my mind linger on the seemingly mundane things, like just lying next to him in bed. Honestly, though…it feels nice.

I stretch up just a little and press my lips to his, keeping it gentle. If he needs time, then that's what he'll get. I can do that for him.

His hand slides under my shirt again, his fingers spreading out across my back, and I marvel for a moment at just how large his hand actually is. It manages to span most of me, his long, elegant fingers almost reaching up to my shoulder blades. Objectively, I'm sure that's one of the things that helps to make him such a good pilot, but my overly-sensitive and at times delicate human half can't help but feel warm and protected by it.

"You told me once that I've never been hard to get," he says softly, trying not to disturb the quiet that has settled on my quarters.

I blink at him, puzzled. "I did? When was that?" He lifts his eyebrow at me and waits, and it doesn't take long for me to figure it out. Sakari. Everything happened on that damn planet, and even to this day, most of it is a blur for me. I do have vague recollections of prowling around him, throwing his attraction to me back in his face, so the fact that I essentially called him easy doesn't seem that far outside the realm of possibility.

"Why do you even put up with me?" I mumble, looking away, completely ashamed.

He takes my chin in my hand, lifting my face back to his. "It wasn't you, B'Elanna."

I shake my head, feeling humiliation wash over me again, the emotion so strong and fierce that I can feel myself blushing. I _never_ blush. "Tom—"

" _It wasn't you_ ," he repeats emphatically.

"I _am_ aggressive," I argue. "And sometimes, I can be a huge jerk."

"So what? I know you're aggressive, but you're not usually violent. I can be a jerk, too, you know. But I know that your more…frantic moments that day were because of a chemical imbalance. There were things that were said and done that were in the heat of the moment. Besides, it's not like you said anything that wasn't true. I guess I just didn't know that _you_ knew that I was that interested in you." He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed himself. "The only thing that was said in those caves that wasn't true was that I'd let you go insane rather than help you. I wouldn't have. I just couldn't bear the thought of you hating me for taking advantage of you. I mean, when Tuvok said it was do or die, I stepped up. I was willing and able."

"I bet you were," I mumble, though it's good-naturedly.

"I still hated the thought of you despising me afterward, but it was better than you being dead."

"Tom," I whisper, ignoring the sentiment as best I can. "What if that _was_ the real me?"

"I doubt it. That was more like the part of you you've been repressing for so long that it finally came bursting out. I think the real you is somewhere between that woman on Sakari and the one the rest of the ship sees. _But_ , if that was the real you, well, I really don't care as long as you let me stick around. Just don't throw me out an airlock and I'll be happy."

I want to argue with him. I want to call him a liar, but I know he means it. I don't know why I want to fight him so hard about it. Maybe it's just second nature at this point. Maybe I'm so used to pushing people away that I can't accept that anyone could actually care about me, despite or even because of my flaws.

I almost make myself laugh with that one. _Maybe_ I'm used to pushing people away? I'd say that's a given. It was that revelation that made me realize I had to tell Tom how I felt before we died.

I pull him in for another kiss, running my fingers through his short, soft hair. I really do love him. I love him more than I imagined possible. Instead of trying to push him away, I need to remind him of that as often as possible. "I interrupted you," I finally say, wiggling closer to him. "I'm sorry."

He looks just a little dazed, his lips slightly swollen from so much kissing. "Huh?"

"The part about not being hard to get?"

"Oh. Oh, right. Anyway, all I was saying is that you were right. I've never put up much of a fight with women, especially if one showed interest in me. I never had to put much effort into getting a girl before."

"So...I was a challenge."

He shifts just a little closer, actually kissing the tip of my nose. "Yes, but not in the way you're already thinking. You weren't just a dare for myself. I would never pursue anything the way I've pursued you for the last year unless it meant something. Believe me, I did a lot of soul searching about you. I kept asking myself if the reason I wanted you so badly was because you didn't just fall at my feet but…that's not it."

"Then what is it?" I ask, curiosity genuinely piqued. He looks away, shrugging a little, and it finally occurs to me that this is hard for him, too. He's not the sort to usually open up and talk about his feelings, probably because his Starfleet Admiral father wouldn't allow it. I put my hand on his cheek and gently turn his face back to mine. "You can tell me anything." He can; I hope he knows that.

He contemplates me for a few seconds, and I can actually see a war being waged across his face. "Look, I chased you for so long because I realized that the thought of living without you makes me sick to my stomach. Because even when we're fighting, I've never been happier in my entire life. Because I jump out of bed every morning on the off chance that I can spend a few minutes with you, and because I hang around Engineering when I'm not supposed to just so I can talk to you. Because when you smile at me, my stomach feels like it's dropped to my knees. Because when you kiss me, I get dizzy and that's never happened to me before. Because the thought of being with anyone else holds no appeal for me, and the thought of you being with someone else makes me want to tear the universe apart. I know that's probably too much to throw at you right now, but…" He shrugs helplessly, and he looks lost, like he doesn't know where to go from there.

I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him in close to me. "I feel the exact same way," I reassure him.

"Really?" he asks, sounding shocked.

"Yeah. I don't think I would have encouraged you quite so much if I didn't feel those things, too."

" _That_ was encouragement?" he teases, and I squeeze him playfully.

"You kept coming back, didn't you? Besides, I don't think there's anyone but you who'd put up with me."

He pulls away from me suddenly, shaking his head as he sits up. "I don't want you to be with me because I 'put up' with you. I don't want you to settle for—"

"I'm not settling for anything," I interrupt, pushing myself into a seated position next to him. "I fell in love. I don't do that, at least not easily, and it's definitely not something I'd ever say and not mean. Know that I love you, Tom—stupidly, blindly, and completely."

He remains silent, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, and I can't help but be amazed that Tom Paris, of all people, is this insecure of my feelings toward him. I guess it makes some sense—it's not exactly common knowledge, but he's not nearly as confident as he'd like everyone to believe. Maybe that's one of the reasons we were able to become friends—we're both imposters.

I let out a big, deep sigh and grab his hand, sliding my fingers between his. "This is not how I pictured tonight going at all."

He shrugs, his fingers tightening around mine. "It's probably all stuff we should talk about, though."

"I'm sure it is. I still never thought we'd be…like this."

"We're not fighting," he answers, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. The side of his mouth quirks up just a little. "That makes for a nice change, right?"

"You're the worst," I tell him, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Look—I'm in love with you. Simple as that. I just can't help but be amazed that you are willing to put up with me, despite how awful I can be. You're always willing to fight with me, you give as good as you get, and somehow…you never hold it against me. You really _are_ the only person who would think I'm worth all this effort."

"If you love someone, none of that matters. It's just part of the adventure. Anyone who's not willing to deal with all of the ups and downs doesn't deserve you." That's the first time he's said something that sounds close to an admission of love and, heaven help me, my heart races. I don't think I was lying to myself earlier; I _don't_ need to hear him admit his feelings right now. But part of me can't help but hope that he doesn't make me wait too long for it.

* * *

*A/N…you know, considering this show has been off the air since 2002, there seem to be a lot of you reading this fandom. That's awesome. I really wish I'd been able to write this stuff back when I'd first watched, though. I suppose I didn't have the words at that age, though, nor the skill set. Still, it's really bad ass that this show still has a fan base. I imagine you're all beautiful, wonderful people. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

*Time to change the rating on this sucker. Also, most of you are new to my style of writing, so I suppose it's fair to let you know that I tend to be somewhat details when it comes to writing this stuff. Kthnxbye!*

* * *

"Do you think there's a way we could salvage this night?" I ask, half-teasing, but half-serious, too. Even if we don't get to sex tonight, I don't want us to wind up feeling weird about each other. Being open with him about my feelings is weird enough.

"I still want to make love to you, if that's what you're asking." He looks up at me again, his normally bright blue eyes still incredibly dark, but I bite my lip to try to hold back a giggle.

"Make love?" I repeat, my cheeks aching from suppressing my smile.

"Yes, B'Elanna, _make_ _love_." His voice is filled with exasperation. "Maybe you've heard of it? I'm sure you think it's just some silly, old-fashioned, human notion of mine, but—"

I put my fingers against his lips, silencing him. "I'm sorry. I've just never thought of sex that way. I've never..." I pause, rolling the words around in my head for a moment. They feel foreign and strange. Even the Klingon romance novels I've spent time reading don't refer to sex like that. "I've never made love before."

"Well, it's been a while for me, too." Inexplicably, I feel jealous of whatever woman he felt that way about in the past. I know that's stupid—I know he spent a lot of years drunk and behaving in less than upstanding ways. I also know that, a long while back, he was in one or two intense, serious relationships. He has a past. I know this about him. It's not as if I was celibate before _Voyager_ , waiting for the right man to come along. Still, that doesn't mean I can control the fact that I'd rather he hadn't done any of the big, important stuff before me. "It's basically the same as sex," he says, derailing my train of thought, "but it means a lot more." He takes my hand and holds it against his chest, and I can feel the steady _thump thump thump_ of his heart beneath my palm. For a few moments, I feel completely overwhelmed. His heart was moments away from stopping just a few days ago. He almost died. That thought actually makes my insides ache. This man that means so much to me, who has meant so much to me for a long time now, nearly died. Yes, he would have died knowing how I felt about him, but that doesn't change the fact that we almost didn't make it. I very nearly waited too long to let him how I feel.

His recovery was more difficult than mine, and even though I trust the Doctor and his medical care, I couldn't help but worry about Tom, even to the point that I sneaked into Sick Bay a couple of times in the middle of the night, just to make sure he was breathing. I'd been released within hours of being located, mostly because I made a general nuisance of myself and the Doctor couldn't stand me anymore, but Tom had a bit more difficulty recovering. It was gut wrenching. All told, he wasn't even in Sick Bay for a full twenty-four hours, but it felt like an eternity.

I press my hand to his chest a little harder, letting myself be reassured by his warm, solid form, his very existence. He's alive. I need to focus on that. That's the part that matters—not that we almost died but that we lived. We're here, together, and I don't want to waste more of our uncertain lives hesitating.

I feel his other under my chin, lifting my face to meet his, and it's only then that I realize I've been staring at his chest, almost like I've been trying to see his heart. He smiles gently and his hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me in gently, and he kisses me softly. "I love you, B'Elanna," he whispers, and I feel tears tickle the corners of my eyes.

He said it.

"I love you." He says it again, a little louder, probably to make sure I heard it, and I know I won't let myself think I imagined it.

A grin splits my face and I force the tears I felt back where they came from. Now's not the time. "I know." I don't say it to be cocky or arrogant. Hearing him tell me he loves me makes me realize that I really did already know it. I have no idea how I could doubt it. Everything he's said and done for months now has told me how he feels about me.

He grins at me in return and, even though it's one of the oldest clichés in the books, I swear it lights up my quarters. He pulls me back to him and our lips meet again. I feel myself stop worrying how tonight is going to be. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen, whether we behave more like humans or my Klingon side rears its ugly head. It doesn't matter to Tom. It really, truly doesn't. He just wants to be with me.

That's a hard concept to grasp. I don't know if I've ever been with someone, romantically or not, who didn't want me to be more human, or a little more Klingon. There's always been some sort of expectation—I've either supposed to be reserved and polite or angry and aggressive. Tom seems happy to simply take me as I am. I lean forward and press my lips to his. We both chase after each other, playfully fighting for the upper hand. At this point, it doesn't matter to me who "wins." It feels like there can be no losers at this point.

I feel myself being lowered to the bed and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. He settles his weight on me and he's surprisingly solid and heavy. I don't think he's one to be easily broken, which is reassuring.

He comes up for air and he smiles at me. His eyes are heavy-lidded, almost sleepy looking. I reach up and push his hair back from his forehead, his skin already warm and slightly damp. Without another word, he leans down again and starts attacking my neck. His lips tug and pull at my skin, his teeth take little nips here and there, his tongue darts out to soothe any injuries, though he's being none to gentle about it.

I let out a sigh and close my eyes, letting myself be swept away. I'm perfectly content to let him take the lead for the moment. It feels pretty amazing to not have to give someone directions. I'm sure that'll happen at some point tonight—it's inevitable the first time with someone, unless you don't want to have a good time. I have no problem telling Tom if he needs to go a little more or a little less, or if he needs to move a few microns to the left. There's no sense in letting the guy think he's doing something right if he's not. The same goes for me, though, too. If I'm not doing the things I need to do that will make him squirm, I want to know about it.

I gasp suddenly, just a little, as his mouth moves lower. His teeth are scraping across the tops of my breasts. Just that feels incredible. I haven't let myself think about how long it's been since I've had sex, but now that it's upon me, my body is reacting in very powerful ways. True, I _have_ used the holodeck a few times to relieve some of the tension, but even that's been a while. It would scratch the itch, but I would often feel even more alone and a bit depressed afterward. Eventually, it was easier just to handle things on my own. For at least the last six months, Tom has featured pretty heavily in my fantasies. Information I won't be giving him for some time—I don't think he needs that sort of ammunition or ego stroking just yet.

However, I'm quickly learning that the Tom of my imagination is nothing compared to Tom in real life. What little I had to go on before right now—some kissing and what I vaguely remember during the pon farr—isn't anything compared to having this man's body pressed against mine, his lips and hands going everywhere.

I feel my legs fall open to give him more room and he settles between my thighs, his hands bunching up my undershirt. His mouth moves again and he somehow, through the layers I'm still wearing, manages to find my nipple and bite down. I hiss as my back arches. His eyes dart up to mine but I don't stop him. This is good. This is really good. It's borderline painful, but not in a bad way. Most people don't seem to get that not everyone needs or wants to be treated like glass all the time. I'm sure that Tom and I will have moments that are incredibly tender—hell, that could happen tonight for all I know—but the fact that he's not afraid to push me is a good sign.

He moves again, this time his lips sliding across my stomach. I let out a deep sigh and drape my arm over my head. Normally, I don't like to be this passive during foreplay, but he seems to really be into worshipping me at the moment. Truthfully, it's nice to feel desired like that. It seems to be making him happy, too.

I realize his lips have stopped and my eyes open in time to see him pulling himself up to his knees. He stretches across me and tugs at my shirt. I sit up to help him and he yanks the undershirt over my head and tosses it across the room. It vaguely occurs to me that we're now both in our underwear, and for some reason, that makes what we're about to do feel very real. My heart starts to pound, though not with nerves—I've never been terribly embarrassed to be naked in front of someone. It's anticipation.

Meanwhile, he's staring at me as if I'm the first semi-undressed woman he's ever seen. He's licking his lips slowly, longingly. I notice that, with the way we're positioned, I'm essentially eye to eye with his erection. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, his unique smell washing over me, his arousal making it more potent than ever.

My eyes fly open and I look up at him, his gaze already on me. I reach out to the waistband of his shorts, sliding my fingers just under the edge. I wait for him to protest but he says nothing. Encouraged, I reach in and carefully wrap my fingers around him. He moans, loudly, and jerks against my touch, and my entire body shakes just a little. He feels so incredibly warm and firm in my hand. No holographic simulation could compare to this, at least not for me.

I tug his shorts down with one hand, trying to be careful. My need to see him, to see _all_ of him, is overwhelming, but the last thing I want to do is hurt him. Still, he doesn't stop me. I finally shove the underwear down to his knees and I let him go for a moment, leaning back to take him all in. He's beautiful. The gently muscled, defined planes of his chest taper down to his stomach and narrow hips, the lines and angles giving way to the pulsating flesh trapped beneath my fingers.

I try to be gentle as I stroke my hand up and down him a few times, but it's hard to hold myself back. I feel his body shudder. I look up at him again to find him staring me intently. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want you," I whisper, startling myself with the words, before I lean forward and take him into my mouth. He moans again and I grab onto his hips, keeping him steady. His scent…oh, my God, his scent. It's getting stronger by the second. I relax myself a little and take a deep breath, scooting closer to him. I take him in as far as possible, bobbing my head back and forth as slowly as I can. I really don't want to rush this moment.

His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging at me gently. It doesn't feel like he's asking me to stop, but I look up at him anyway. I shouldn't have worried, though—his head has dropped back a little, his mouth is hanging open, and I can hear him breathing raggedly. He seems pretty happy right now.

Without warning, he shoves me away and I fall back onto my elbows, surprised. I watch his chest heave for a few moments before he shifts a little, kicking his shorts completely off his legs. He reaches out and grabs my shoulders, pulling me up to my knees. His face disappears into my neck and his hands slide around my back, fingers fumbling with the clasp of my bra. It occurs to me for the first time how unexciting my standard issue Starfleet underwear is, not that it seems to matter to Tom. If this relationship holds up, I might have to use some of my replicator rations on something fancier.

Even though it really doesn't seem to matter to him.

I shudder and wrap my arms around him, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck. I'm not sure if it's something he figured out on his own or if it was something I gave away on Sakari, but my neck is definitely one of my hot spots. If someone knows what he's doing, it's one of the most amazing feelings in the universe…and Tom really seems to know what he's doing. I angle my head as best I can to return the favor, pressing my lips against his pulse point before taking his earlobe gently between my teeth and tugging. His fingers finally manage to unclasp my bra but he makes no moves to remove the garment. Instead, he runs his hands up and down my back, letting his nails scrape against my overly sensitive flesh. I snake one hand in between us, grasping him once again. I feel him stiffen even more against my palm and he makes a noise in his throat that sounds like a growl.

For a few moments, I lose myself.

That noise goes to some deep, primal place within me, and I can hear myself growl in response. I press my nose against the space just behind his ear and gasp, trying to smell as much of him as I can. He keeps licking and biting my neck, moving down to my clavicle and back up again. It feels so good that I would cry if everything wasn't hazy with desire. I release his erection and grab his chin, holding him in place. I move my mouth to his cheek, breathing heavily, before I take his delicate flesh between my teeth. I start to bite down when I freeze, suddenly overcome with the memory of doing this to him once before. The pon farr had only just begun surging through my veins and, even now, I don't know how much of that moment I can blame on a chemical imbalance, and how much of it was just me.

"Do it," he breathes, tightening his grip on me. " _Do it_."

I hesitate anyway. I'm trying my hardest not to think too much about what's happening, but there are some things that seem almost too vulgar and too much like a caveman. Like biting someone's face. It just feels too…Klingon. But that's what he wants, right? For me to be myself and just let go. Why is that so hard?

"I want you to," he says, a little louder. "Mark me."

So many things fight within me. I want to—desperately want to—mark him, no matter how old-fashioned and prehistoric that is. Part of me needs to have the universe at large know that he belongs to me. But another part of me, the quiet, more reserved human part, doesn't want to advertise her sex life to the whole ship. There are some things I need to keep to myself, and my relationship with Tom might be one of those things. It's such a small ship that it would only take one person to see him with a bite on his face and the entire crew would know. Within an hour.

With another growl, I shove his face away and latch onto his shoulder, biting with enough force to break the skin. He lets out a quick yelp of pain, shoving me away for just a second before he yanks me back to him. I don't get a chance to react before I feel him bite down on my shoulder. I yell out in surprise and he looks up at me, questioningly. I know what he's asking. He's wondering if he's gone too far. I think I'm more surprised that he understood my need for discretion than that he repeated a very Klingon gesture.

I love him even more.

* * *

*A/N...fully formed notes and justifications for my thought processes will be at the end of the story. Also, I have two others that I'm writing. What's come over me?


	4. Chapter 4

I wrap my arms around him and pull him close, attacking his mouth. The taste of his blood blends with mine, driving me wild. The new combination of our mixture shoots through my entire body, electrifying me to the tips of my toes. We taste perfect together.

My nails dig into his shoulder blades and I feel his entire body tense up. I probably drew blood with that, too. In the morning, he'll have lots of tiny, crescent shaped marks on his back from me trying to hold him close. I don't think he'll be complaining about that, though.

His fingers wrap around my arms suddenly, pulling them away. I struggle against him, trying to put my arms around him once more, but I'm surprised to find I can't. I lean back from him, blinking a few times. I try again, twisting my arms, but he doesn't budge. My lip quirks up in a smile and he grins at me broadly. He's stronger than I realized. Stronger than I'd hoped.

Without warning, he gives me a push and I land on the bed, sprawled out on my back. I let out a surprised, happy laugh but he just reaches down and pulls off my bra, throwing it across the room. For a few long moments, he simply stares at me. Ordinarily, being naked in front of someone else isn't an issue for me. I feel no shame in flaunting what I have if the need arises, but right now, I feel my human insecurities try to take over as he gawks at me. I start to cross my arms over my chest but he shakes his head. "God, you're beautiful," he whispers. His hands slide up my stomach, stroking the sides of my breasts reverently. "You're so beautiful."

I shiver and arch my back, even as I shake my head. "Tom…"

He drapes his body over mine, silencing me with a kiss. It's effective. The skin to skin contact feels incredible. "You're beautiful," he repeats. I would protest, but the mark I left on his shoulder comes into view and all thought and reason leaves my head. He's mine. He _wants_ to be mine. That part is so unbelievable, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

While I breathe deeply, pulling in his scent, he kisses his way down first my throat, then my sternum. He lifts his eyes to mine and moves over to one of my breasts, dragging his teeth across my sensitive flesh. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, tugging at it and my eyes fall shut as I cry out. I clamp my hands at the base of his neck, keeping him in place. I never want him to stop.

Despite my efforts, I can't keep him there. My disappointment is short-lived, though, when he moves over to my other breast, lavishing it with the same sort of attention. His mouth is magic. There's no other way to describe it.

I open my eyes again and find his eyes still fixed on me. If it wasn't so erotic, it'd be unnerving. He's studying my face, watching every reaction carefully. He really wants to know that I'm enjoying myself. I dig my fingernails into him again, and he responds by giving my nipple an extra vicious tug. It makes me squirm.

His fingers stroke down my sides, gentle in contrast to what his mouth is doing, and he grabs the edge of my underwear. He pulls at them a few times, and I can tell he's reluctant to stop his ministrations on my chest. Finally, though, he sits up onto his knees, lifting his eyebrow in question. His erection twitches eagerly, and all I want to do is get my hands on it again. I lick my lips and reach for him, but he pushes my hands away, shaking his head. He grabs my underwear again and says just one word.

"Off."

I lift my hips and he slides the regulation gray panties down my thighs. I shift, lifting my legs in the air, and he pulls the scrap of material off, sending it in the direction of my bra. His fingers slide across my stomach, going lower and lower, but I grab his biceps and yank. He falls across me, both of us letting out a very unsexy "oof!" He looks up at me and chuckles as I pull at him, and he situates himself on top of me. My breath actually catches in my throat for a few moments. This is the first time we've been completely skin to skin. He stares at me, breathing heavily, and it's obvious the moment is having the same effect on him. I wrap my legs around his hips and he moans, burying his face in my neck. A moment later, his lips move to my shoulder, finding the mark he gave me just a few minutes ago. He sucks at it, making my eyes grow wide and I thrust up against him, creating friction. I tilt my head, finding his wound, and inhale deeply, letting his scent overwhelm me and fill me.

He settles his weight against me, pressing me into the mattress, and when I try to push him over so that I can be on top, I'm surprised to find that he won't budge. This is strange. I'm not usually bested by a human. I know he's been working out a lot—he doesn't have the bulging muscles that some have, but his lines are sharp and defined, I can actually feel the power in his arms, and part of me can't help but think that's been for my benefit—but that doesn't explain how he could have this much physical power.

Unless, of course, it's not the physical power that's doing it.

What if I want him to dominate me? What if I'm not fighting back as hard as I might under normal circumstances because I want him to have the upper hand? That doesn't seem like me, but then again, neither does falling in love.

It makes sense, in its own way. I've been the dominate one in past relationships, always taking the lead and pushing the men around, and they've seemed to enjoy it. I'd be willing to bet that Tom will like it, too, but…maybe I just don't feel like putting up much of a fight. I've been fighting him for so long. That doesn't mean I plan on being passive, of course, but I don't think I'll be making him work as hard for it as I might with someone else.

He lifts his head, smiling at me lazily. His fingers are gentle as he pushes my hair away from my face and I lift my head up, somehow managing to capture his lips with mine. The kiss is slow and deep, and it makes me tingle. This man really is good at foreplay.

One of his hands strokes down my side, so light that it almost tickles me. He grabs onto my hip, fingers digging into me for a few moments. He shifts a little and he moves his hand between our bodies. I can feel his fingers stroking my stomach and the muscles beneath him respond with a quiver. He moves lower, brushing over my pubic bone a few times before he moves even lower, and I take in a huge breath as his fingers finally make contact with me. He moans in response, his lips somehow still pressed to mine. Before I have time to even think about adjusting to the sensation, he slides a finger into me.

I tear my mouth from his, my entire body tensing up. "Ohhhhhhhhhh," I moan, the sound bouncing off the walls around me.

He presses his lips to my jaw, adding a second finger to the mix and thrusting his hand gently into me. My legs curl up, my knees almost in his armpits.

"I guess you like that," he whispers, and I laugh breathlessly, my hips lifting up to meet every movement of his hand.

"Oh, God," I whine, my voice coming out at a pitch I don't recognize. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his back. It wasn't that long ago tonight that he said he was worried about embarrassing himself, but now I think that's about to happen to me.

He shifts to the side a bit, his free arm sliding beneath my back as his other hand moves faster within me. I open my eyes to find him watching me, studying my reactions. I smile up at him before letting out a long, shuddering breath, and he slows his motions down to almost nothing. Before I can ask, he whispers, "I don't want this to be over too fast."

"Don't worry about me," I answer, my chest still heaving. "I recover quickly."

"How quickly?"

"I've never timed it."

He lifts his eyebrows, withdrawing his fingers completely. "Multiple orgasms?"

I huff out a laugh, straining my hips to get closer to his touch. "If you play your cards right."

"Well, how do I know if I'm playing my cards right?" His fingers stroke me ever-so-slightly.

A shiver rolls through my body and I bite my lip for a few moments. "I'd say you're off to a good start."

He leans down and kisses me gently before he moves lower. He kisses my neck, my clavicle, my sternum, my breasts, my stomach, covering as much skin as possible. My body relaxes just a little, the tension dissipating. I slide my hand through his hair but he ignores my touch. He presses his mouth to my left hip, moving slowly to the other before bringing his lips to the tops of my thighs.

"I've never been with a Klingon before. Anything I should know?" My eyes snap open to find him looking at me earnestly, and I take a few deep breaths. He's not teasing me about being Klingon, nor is he asking if I'm somehow anatomically different than the other women he's been with. He's never teased me about who I am, and I don't think he ever would. He honestly wants to know.

"We're a little more responsive, from what I understand. We're built more for pleasure than humans."

His eyes light up. "Oh, _reall_ y?"

"I have nerve endings in a lot of places."

"What sort of places?"

"Well, I know that human women tend to get the most out of external stimulation and that the actual act of sex without any additional help isn't always the most exciting." He nods in understanding—I'm sure the female anatomy and the response to stimuli is something he's studied extensively. "It's not the same for Klingon women. We have nerve endings inside and out. Sex almost always feels good, no matter which way you go at it. I can't speak for Klingons as a whole, but I've never had any trouble achieving multiple orgasms, as long as I'm with someone willing to put in the effort."

"Oh, I'm willing," he answers quickly. "I'm so very willing."

"I don't doubt that," I answer.

He gives me a smile and kisses the top of my thigh again before he grabs my legs, draping them over his shoulders, and my entire body tenses as his mouth makes contact. I let out a yell and grab at his hair, holding him in place. I actually don't usually encourage this part, mostly because it seems to take too much time. I'm usually more interested in the actual release of sex instead of oral gratification, and I don't know that I've been with a guy who's complained about that. But Tom…I think Tom is a master. His tongue makes just a few passes over me before my back arches off the bed, my arms crossing over my face as I try to keep my head from exploding. My thighs clench around his head, and I probably nearly kill him but I can't seem to bring myself to care enough to let him go. I moan as I thrust against his face, and I'm vaguely aware that he'll probably bring this up for a long time to come. It happened awfully fast.

My body starts to settle down and I open my eyes, finding him smiling at me. He doesn't look smug so much as…satisfied. Very, very satisfied. "What?" I croak out, pausing to clear my throat before asking again. "What?"

"I've wanted to do that to you for a long time," he answers, kissing my inner thigh for a few moments before he slides his fingers inside of me again. I bite my lip, trying to keep myself from crying out, but it doesn't help. My back arches again, making me almost fold in half. I try to push against him but he's having none of it. He moves very slowly, almost as if he's exploring me. I feel like I'm going to die. It would be a good death, but I still feel like I'm not going to make it. This feels…heavenly. It feels like he's taken everything I told him to heart and now he's trying to find every single nerve ending I possess.

I think he's succeeding.

He kisses the inside of my thigh again before leaning his head against my leg to watch me.

I'm not used to this sort of attention. It's a little unnerving. I want to touch him—I'm really not the sort to be an inactive participant in bed—but being touched like this, being loved like this…I don't remember a time that I felt this special.

His fingers curl within me and I let out a squeak, knowing it'll probably be my downfall. I'm sure he'll take that information and run.

He speeds up a little, leaning up to press his lips to my stomach and his fingers curl again. I struggle to keep my eyes open—I desperately want to watch him—but it feels too good. My head tilts back and colors flash beneath my eyelids as I moan, my hips pushing against his hand. He may not be in a hurry, but my body is. What feels like electricity starts to course through me, tingling everywhere. All of my muscles tense up and my eyes fly open. I reach out and grab his shoulder, and he looks up at me, unconcerned. My other hand reaches back, slamming against the wall a few times as I try to find something to grab onto. He does…something with his hand. I'm not sure if he speeds up or slows down, but it does the trick and I feel like I'm flying apart again. I yell out again, and I think his name is in there somewhere. One of my hands digs into his flesh as the other beats against the wall, my body thrusting against him violently.

I suppose it's possible that I'm this responsive because it's been so long since I actually had sex, but somehow I doubt it. Part of me hates to say that it's because I'm with Tom, but I know that he has to be a part of it. I've wanted to be with him for such a long time now, and it turns out that reality is better than fantasy.

My body twitches a few times and I swallow heavily. I unclench my fingers from his shoulder, having the presence of mind to give it a few careful rubs before I stretch languorously. I open my eyes and find him with his arms crossed over my pelvis, his chin resting on his hand. He still doesn't look smug. He looks happy. I grab his biceps and tug, pulling him so that he's draped across me. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, kissing me slowly. I can taste myself in his mouth, subtle but unmistakable, and I think my brain starts to short-circuit.

What is happening to me?

* * *

*A/N…so, in all the research I did for this story (took a whole five minutes out of my life), all I could find about the female anatomy of Klingons was that they're basically the same as humans. Well, that's no fun. So, I made up some stuff about them. I think it works. It's now part of my head-canon. Enjoy that.

On a completely different and personal note, this has been a heartbreaking week in America. If you're here, you probably understand just how hard it's been. Those of you overseas…well, I've seen some of your responses to our president-elect, and I know you're just as confused and heartbroken as so many of us are. I've spent so much time crying this week, I just can't even tell you. It's been rough. I just want to suggest that we all try to love each other a little more, take better care of one another, try to stay positive, and never give up. I'm trying to take this one day at a time, and am trying to find a way to make something good come of this. No ideas yet, but I'm trying.


	5. Chapter 5

"You are _really_ responsive," Tom mumbles, wrapping his arms around me.

"Told you." I try to brag, but it comes out more like a moan.

"I just want to go down on you forever."

"I think we'd miss out on whole lot of other stuff."

He leans back a little, playing with my hair tenderly. "If you understood how incredible you look while I'm doing it, you'd get why the rest of it doesn't seem to matter." I lift my eyebrow at him dubiously but he just shrugs. "It's true. I just want to make you feel like that forever. You were so…you're just…you're completely gorgeous."

I wiggle my hips against his, trying to distract him. Getting compliments about my looks has never been my strong suit and for some reason, hearing those words thrown at me while naked and in a post-orgasmic haze makes me feel even more vulnerable. I slide my hand in between us and grasp his erection. His eyes slam shut and he breathes out roughly through his nose. I lift my head a little and kiss his neck, his quiet moans reverberating through my lips. I let go of him long enough to flip him onto his back, feeling smug that I finally managed to get my wits together to get the upper hand. I straddle his thighs and take him in hand again, stroking gently. A fine sheen of sweat appears across his entire body. I release him and slide my hands up his chest, tugging at the fine, blond hairs just hard enough to make him hiss. He grabs my thighs and I start to rock against him, my head falling back at the sensation. Everything feels amazing. How is that possible? How can every single touch make me feel like I'm melting? How can just rubbing against each other feel better than sex with others? It's ridiculous. It's insane. It's impossible.

…It's love.

That's the only explanation I can think of. I love him, and it seems to be heightening every sensation.

I push against him harder, faster, and his fingers dig into my legs, encouraging me to continue. I feel another orgasm start to build. I lift my head and find him staring at me, his face strained. Red infuses his cheeks, his neck, and, to my utter fascination, spreads down to his chest. "I love you," he mouths, and it almost does me in. Shivers race up and down my spine. I push against him harder, faster, not sure which one of us is making the most noise at this point. I don't even care.

His fingers dig into my hips suddenly, stilling all movement. I glare at him, panting, but he just shakes his head. "Not like this," he gasps.

I pause for a few moments before I nod, sliding off his hips and down between his legs. "Your turn," I breathe just before I run my tongue up his length.

"B'Elanna," he pleads, his entire body jerking, but I ignore him. I move my tongue over him slowly, keeping my eyes on his face. He looks close to being in pain, but that's probably just the strain from holding back. I lift my head a little and take him slowly in my mouth, moaning at the feel. I still ache. I still desperately want—no, _need_ , another orgasm—but he's been so attentive toward me that I just want to return the favor.

I prop myself up on one hand, wrapping the other around him to cover what my mouth can't reach. I want to go at him with everything I've got, but I know that this would be over much too quickly that way. There's time for that later. I force myself to go slow, to savor him and the way he feels. It's not easy, though. Everything about him feels incredible. The heat of his skin, how soft he is despite being so hard at the same time, the scent, the way he feels in my mouth…if it were possible, I would do this for hours.

I moan and he shudders in response, his hips jerking a little. I slide my hand down to the base of him, squeezing just a little. I look up at him even as I keep moving my head, my tongue, and he manages to gasp out, "Thanks," and I know I managed to buy him some more time. I continue to watch his face as I work, and I understand what he meant earlier when he said that watching me was fascinating. Everything about him right now—the sweat, the muscles contracting and releasing, his eyes tightly screwed shut, his mouth open as he makes soft, happy noises—is completely beautiful. The only disappointing part is that human males don't recover from sex very quickly, at least not past a certain age. Then again, Klingon males aren't known for their recovery time, either.

I feel him push at my shoulder for a minute but I'm too lost in the sensation of him to pay much attention. A moment later, I'm flying through the air, landing on my back somewhere on the bed. I blink up at Tom in surprise as he leans over me, panting heavily. I reach for him but he manages to grab both of my wrists in one hand, pinning my arms over my head. I can't help but be impressed that he's tossing me around like a ragdoll.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he growls, leaning down to kiss me. Our tongues clash together, fighting for dominance, and his free hand slides roughly up and down my body. I struggle to free my arms but he holds firm, not letting me go anywhere. I'm pretty sure I could push him over if I really wanted to but…I don't think I really want to just yet. The sensation of not being able to use my arms is fascinating and a little exhilarating. I arch my body up to him, trying to direct his ministrations, but he ignores me. He grabs at my breast, kneading the flesh roughly, and I gasp into his mouth, squirming. He slides to my other breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers before he tugs at it, and all I can do is moan.

He moves his hand again, skimming it quickly down my stomach, and even though I can guess what he's planning to do, I nearly bite his tongue off when I feel his fingers slide into me again. He kisses me harder in response, thrusting his hand in and out of me. I press myself as closely to him as I can—he still has my arms trapped over my head—as I gasp and moan into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Tom." I rip my mouth from his, crying out. My entire body tenses up. He is _good_ at this. How the hell did he ever manage to stay single for any length of time? " _Ohhhhhhh_."

He tilts his head down and takes one my nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. I strain my arms against his grasp, trying to break free. Honestly, though, I don't know how much effort I put into it. I just know that he doesn't seem to have a lot of trouble holding onto me right now. I brace one foot on the bed, pushing my hips against his hand as fast as I can. "Right there," I tell him, my voice almost unrecognizable. "Right there, _right there_ TOMMMMMMMM!" An orgasm rushes through me, intense and almost paralyzing. My entire body locks into position as wave after wave of pleasure hits me. His hand keeps moving though, coaxing more and more from me, and my body doesn't fail to respond. Not being able to use my hands heightens everything. For a few seconds, I feel like I'm actually dying before my body starts to cooperate again and thrust against him wildly. I'm still yelling and moaning, though I'm not sure exactly what I'm saying.

His mouth pulls at my nipple a few more times as his hand leaves my body. I'm still convulsing a little, the orgasm having not quite abated, and he starts kissing me frantically. First on my mouth, though he doesn't seem able to stay there long before he presses his lips to any bit of skin he can find, finally releasing my arms. I reach out to hold onto him but he slides away from me and off the bed completely. I lift my head in confusion, and he grabs the backs of my knees, yanking me to the edge of the bed.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," I groan as his mouth finds me again, his tongue swiping over me, and my head falls back. I'm not nearly as sensitive as I was the first time he did this just a little while ago, but that doesn't mean this will take long. I've found that, once I have a couple of orgasms, it can be ridiculously easy for me to have more. And with someone like Tom, someone who clearly knows what he's doing and does it enthusiastically, this night is well on its way to being ridiculous.

I clutch at the bedspread beneath me, my legs curling up. He wraps one of his arms around my thigh, holding it in place, and the other hand slides up my body, grabbing onto my breast. I manage to relax my grip enough to stroke that hand with my own, needing a little bit of contact. His fingers pause for a moment, squeezing mine, and that one tiny gesture almost makes me melt completely. I glance down to find him looking at me, his blue eyes twinkling, crinkled at the edges. A moment later, I'm spinning out of control again. His eyes completely did me in. My body shakes violently as I spasm, quivering against his face. I feel him kiss me softly, almost reverently, and I expect him to climb back up me.

His hand releases my breast and I reach for him, my breathing still heavy, but he ignores me. Still poised on his knees next to the bed, his fingers find their way between my legs, stroking me gently. I can feel his hot breath on me and I thrust forward, trying to make contact with anything as I realize the after effects of this latest orgasm are still washing over me.

"Tom," I moan, my voice embarrassingly weak.

He just shakes his head. "I'm still not done with you."

I tremble from head to toe. "More?"

"As long as you can take it. Want me to keep going?"

* * *

*A/N…Thanks for the moral support, guys, in regards to the horrible Cheet-O who will allegedly become our president. I plan on personally responding to you guys, too, as soon as time permits.

Also, I apologize that this one is shorter than others, but it seemed like a good stopping place.


	6. Chapter 6

I moan and drop back against the bed, arching my back. He accepts the invitation and buries his head between my thighs again, his fingers slipping into me. It's borderline too much, but I never want it to stop. I brace my feet on his shoulders and I feel him groan, the vibrations making my entire body tingle. I've never been the center of someone's attention like this before. Sex has _never_ been like this before. He's so into it. His only goal seems to be to make me orgasm. He seems wholly unconcerned with his situation. At this point, it makes every other sexual encounter I've had pale in comparison. Maybe I'll feel differently once I don't have as many endorphins running through me, but I doubt it. He's putting off his own satisfaction for me.

I glance down at him again, but this time his eyes are closed, his expression blissful as he continues his ministrations. Maybe he's getting satisfaction out of this. He's certainly spending all that time down there voluntarily.

I try to distract myself, but I know it's a losing battle. I try to think about plasma relays and warp particles, but my brain won't cooperate. No matter what, it all comes back to Tom and what he's doing to me. To what he's making me feel.

His teeth scrape against me just a little and I almost fly off the bed. I grip onto the bedspread again, my knuckles turning white from the strain. I sit up a little, trying to watch him. His eyes open and he stares at me. I can feel his fingers thrusting into me, faster and faster. His mouth and tongue move swiftly, finding the spots that need attention and happily lavishing them. I can see my stomach muscles jumping beneath my skin. His teeth scrape me again and I actually scream, thrusting and convulsing. My legs cross over his shoulders, locking him into position. I fly into a sitting position and grab the back of his neck, holding him in place. A tiny part of my brain hopes that I'm not suffocating him, mostly because that would mean he'd have to stop this, but I don't feel him try to pull away. Actually, his arm unravels from my thigh and wraps about my back, pulling me closer. I haven't been able to stop convulsing or crying out. His mouth and fingers haven't stopped moving. I think my head is going to explode. Finally, he backs off just a little and my body slumps as I pant. He kisses my inner thigh before nuzzling me with his nose, making me shudder from head to toe. I run my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as gently as I can manage. "Going for a record?" I manage to ask, my voice low and throaty.

He chuckles and I tighten my grip on him, shivering. "Maybe," he answers, his tongue flicking at me a couple of times. My head falls back as I moan. His fingers shift within me and I feel like it wouldn't take much more than this for me to explode again. "How many have you had?"

"No clue." I bite my lip, trying not to moan. "Didn't keep count."

He tilts his head, considering me, and I can't begin to guess what he might be thinking. "Another?"

"Think you can manage it?" I tease, both us well aware at this point of his affect on me.

"Let's give it a whirl, shall we?" With that, his mouth starts attacking me again. I cry out, holding his head to me once more, and suddenly I'm not entirely sure if the last orgasm ever really stopped. He pulls at me a little until I'm almost hanging off the bed entirely, but it gives him more room to play. He slows down, his tongue taking long, delicious passes over me, and my toes curl in response. We stare at each other as he works, intensifying every sensation. I can actually see his tongue come out and flick at me, and my body jerks in response every time. He pushes against my grip just a little, backing away from me a few inches. I moan in disappointment as he pulls his fingers out of me, but my eyes grow wide just a moment later as he slowly sticks them in his mouth. His eyes close for a few seconds as he looks like he actually savors the moment. I have no idea what to do with myself. My body reacts painfully—for reasons I can't explain, that was insanely erotic. I tug at his arms and he takes the hint, stretching up to meet me for a kiss. This time, the taste of myself in his mouth is intense and powerful, and mixed with his own flavor, I feel almost done in. The hand that's been working its magic on me all this time wraps around my back, holding me tight. The other one, however, snakes down between my thighs. His touch is feather-light and drives me completely wild.

"I don't think I'm going to make it through the night," I whisper, biting my lip as a tremor rips through me. Immediately, I realize that's not something I should say to the guy I'm fooling around with, no matter how much I love him. I can practically see his ego swelling. I suppose there are worse things than letting a man know he's good in bed, but Tom has a tendency to strut around when he's right about something, or when he knows he's the best. Then again, maybe he'll behave differently with me and what we do behind closed doors. I can only hope. I can also only hope that he doesn't walk around the ship tomorrow with huge grin on his face. Nothing like advertising that you just got laid. Either way, what I said was the truth. My entire body feels like it's on fire and that I'm moments from actually combusting. But, if I die tonight…well, what a way to go.

I'm snapped from my thoughts as my body shivers again and my eyes fall shut. He ducks his head back down and I gasp as his tongue swipes at me urgently. I grab at the blanket beneath me, reluctant to yank at his head yet again—the last thing I want to do is truly injure him. My back arches and my pelvis thrusts forward, eager for more of his touch. I force my eyes open and do my best to watch him. It's almost overwhelming. The visual aspect of sex isn't something I've thought about much before. It doesn't bother me, but I've never considered it an enhancement to the event. I may have to rethink that particular position, though. The added visuals are bringing me to the edge faster than I would have thought.

He lightens his touch, his tongue so gentle that it nearly tickles, and I throw my head back, laughing lightly. Nothing I've ever experienced has felt this good. He tightens his grip around my waist and pulls, dragging my hips completely off the bed. I dig my feet into the carpet and grab onto the edge of the mattress to keep myself from falling. Tom doesn't seem fazed—he just leans back a little, his mouth and fingers never missing a beat. My thighs start to shake, trembling visibly beneath my skin, and I'm not sure if it's from trying to keep myself from falling or if it's just a reaction from the intensity of it all. He tugs again and I slide even further off the bed, holding on by only my shoulder blades for a few seconds before I drop to the floor. We fumble for a few moments, our bodies tangled, before Tom sprawls out on the ground, tugging me up his body. My knees are pressed to the deck next to his head and I let out a loud moan as his mouth finds me again. I collapse forward, bracing my elbows on the floor as I pant and gasp. My head swirls, cloudy with pleasure. I look down at Tom again, but his eyes are still closed, his brow furrowed in concentration. Vaguely, I notice that my thighs are still shaking visibly, and for some reason, it's completely fascinating.

I push myself up, sitting upright for a few moments before my back arches and I almost fall backward. I reach out and grab onto his legs to keep myself from collapsing again.

My entire body tenses for a few moments—this is it. This is the angle. Everything felt beyond great leading up to this but there's something about this position, this angle, that feels better than anything else so far. I thrust against his face as I shout, unable to rein myself in. It's lewd and loud, and I feel like I should be ashamed or embarrassed, or worried that I'm going to scare him off, but he has his arms wrapped about my thighs, holding on for dear life. I can actually feel him humming. His mouth is moving faster than I ever thought possible. I dig my fingers into his legs and he unravels his arms, wrapping them around my waist. He yanks me closer, holding me so tight that I can't move my hips. His eyes fly open, meeting mine. I move my hands to grab onto his arms moments before I feel like I'm being torn apart.

"Ahhh ahhhh ahhhh AHHHHTOMMMMMM!" My hips move as much as they can, fighting against his hold. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me, almost violently, and all I can do is scream, release finding its way out of me any way it can.

He doesn't let up. I can feel his tongue moving, finding just the right spots to keep me going. Despite his grasp, my body bucks violently, fighting him. His mouth moves a few more times, and he gently drags his teeth over me, making me yell out once more before I fall off him. I spread out on my back, still convulsing, and I feel him slide up next to me. His fingers find their way between my legs again, but he keeps his touch gentle, helping to bring me back down. I push against him insistently, still riding the waves, until finally, mercifully, I feel myself start to relax. I gasp as I wilt against the floor, the room around me spinning. He presses his lips to my neck, my cheek, and I turn my head, meeting him in a long, deep kiss. His hand slides up me slowly, gently playing with my breast before he pulls me close.

I relax against him, feeling utterly and completely satisfied. Our lips finally part and my eyes flutter open. He smiles at me gently and I can't help but grin in response. After all that, he'd have every right to feel smug. "So," I say, reaching out to stroke his arm. "You have an oral fixation I don't know about?"

He chuckles, kissing me again. "Not really."

"Could have fooled me."

He laughs again, scooting even closer to me. "I think it's just your effect on me."

I sigh happily and turn toward him a little. "What do you think the odds are that I'll have that effect on you again?"

"Any time you want it, let me know. I'm happy to be of service."

"Any time?"

"Within reason, I suppose. I don't know if I could use that excuse on the Bridge. 'Sorry, everyone. Can't finish my shift today. B'Elanna needs sex.'"

I press my lips to his, trying to suppress a smile. "Probably best not to say that."

He tightens his arm around me and I slide my hand down his stomach, resting it on his hip for a few moments. He kisses me again, moaning softly into my mouth, and I slide my hand in between us, capturing his erection gently in my hand. Fortunately, for him at least, it seems to have abated a bit since I last had a chance to touch him, but he instantly starts to firm up as I grasp him, moving my hand up and down him carefully.

"We don't have to do this tonight," he says softly. "I mean, if you're wiped out from…well, from everything, it's no big deal."

I laugh a little and shake my head, feeling the haze of multiple orgasms starting to clear. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Someone thinks highly of his prowess," I tease, making him roll his eyes.

"Didn't you have a traumatic day? Didn't some crazed hologram try to rip your heart out?" His expression turns somber as he stares at me, so I immediately grab his hand, resting it against my chest so he can feel my still rapidly-beating heart.

"I'm okay, Tom. The Doctor fixed me up. He gave me a clean bill of health. He said I was fine to resume all physical activities. I wouldn't be doing this if I thought my life was at risk." His eyes close and I feel his hand press against me harder, and I understand completely what he's doing. I did it myself earlier this evening. "I'm okay."

"I came so close to losing you," he whispers. " _Again_."

"But you didn't. I'm still here. You're still here. Let's not waste any more time." I wait for him to catch up, his eyes eventually opening again. They're still dark, darker than I've ever seen from him, but I can see fear and worry in them, too. Truthfully, the two of us _have_ been through a lot in the last few days, but if that's not a reason to reach out and grab life with both hands and to stop hesitating, then I don't know what is.

"I love you, B'Elanna," he finally says, his voice thick with emotion.

I just smile at him, tugging him closer. "I love you, Tom."

He rolls on top of me, kissing me slowly. One of his hands slides under my back, stretching across me to hold me tight. The other hand slips down my side until he grabs my thigh, hooking it over his hip. I feel him pressing against me and my head starts to swirl again. There's absolutely no way I could wait to do this another day.

Without another thought, I give him a shove and flip us over, landing on top of him. He holds onto the back of my neck, keeping our lips fused together. I rock my hips against him just a bit, enough to make him groan. I pull back a little, watching his face, and I'm happy to see that all traces of melancholy are gone. His expression is contorted—somewhere between pleasure and pain—and even though I know he absolutely meant it when he said that we could wait and do this another night, I also know that he's happy he doesn't have to wait.

I stand up suddenly, walking away from him. I turn in time to see his eyes open in confusion. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, moving around him in a slow circle. I take him in from every angle, mentally calculating the best way to do this. I'd rather avoid sex on the floor, if at all possible. It's not terribly comfortable. But if he continues to lie there, fully aroused and looking completely beautiful, then I may not have much choice in the matter.

His eyes widen as it suddenly becomes clear—to both of us—that I'm stalking him. He scrambles to his feet, wincing for a few moments as he stands upright, bending a bit at the waist to help ease the tension of his erection. I walk toward him slowly, giving him a chance to get away or put up a "fight," but he does neither. Too bad for him. A moment later I rush at him, slamming him into the wall. At the last second, I cup the back of his head so that it doesn't make contact. Human skulls aren't quite as thick as Klingon skulls, and I don't really want to concuss the man. He lets out an "ugh!" as the rest of his body hits the wall, looking a little dazed. I grab his arms at the elbows, holding him against the wall. I bury my face in his neck, reveling in his scent yet again. I feel him struggle to free his arms but I don't give in. Despite the fact that I suddenly feel completely wild with desire, I force myself to go slow. I kiss his neck, dragging my teeth along his pulse point. I can feel it fluttering wildly beneath my lips. His scent hits me again and I open my eyes to find the mark I left on him earlier. Without thinking, I latch onto it again. He inhales sharply but doesn't try to pull away. I run my tongue over the indentations left from my teeth, sucking at him a little. I shudder as the taste of his blood hits my taste buds and I take a moment to breathe in heavily through my nose. I don't completely understand what it is about his blood that drives me wild; all I know is that Tom is the only one to have that effect on me.

My back hits the wall suddenly and I stare up at Tom in surprise. I must have loosened my hold on him while basking in his scent. I pause for a moment, not sure if I want to fight him or give in, and he steps closer to me, looming over me. In all the years I've known him now, this is the first time I've noticed how much bigger he is than me. It's not that I suddenly feel threatened, but it's just not something I've ever thought about. In some ways—ways I never really considered—being part Klingon makes me feel huge, even though I'm actually quite small by their standards. Those around me never seem to consider my size, and it's not uncommon for people to cut me a wide berth depending on the day and my mood. I've occasionally gotten snide remarks from other Klingons, but truthfully, comments about each other's size are the sort of comments Klingons make no matter what. Hell, I've had to stand on tiptoe before to kiss Tom, though I'm usually wearing my Starfleet boots while doing so. Suddenly, though, our height difference seems massive. I crane my head back to look up at him and he steps even closer, his erection pushing into my stomach insistently. For the first time in my life, I feel tiny. It's very strange and disconcerting.

Nothing like being naked to level the playing field.

All thoughts of our size difference disappear from my mind as his arms wrap around me, leaning down for a kiss. I immediately go up on tiptoe to meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I can still taste myself in his mouth and my knees buckle instantly in response. Mentally, I curse myself for the reaction but Tom doesn't seem to care. He bends down just a little before grabbing me under my thighs, pulling me up against him. I wrap my legs around his hips, holding on tight. I can feel him buckle a little, too, just for a moment, and I can't help but feel satisfied. If he can manage to do it to me, at least I can return the favor.

I tighten my legs around his waist, both of us gasping as I grind against his erection. "Bed?" he asks breathlessly and all I can do is nod, pressing my lips to his again. A few seconds later, I'm being lowered less than gently onto my bed. He pushes at me, both of us scooting backward until I hit the headboard. I shift my hips against him eagerly and he thrusts against me in response. I slide my hand down his side, trying to get between our bodies, but he grabs my wrist, pinning it beside my head. I try the other hand, only to be met with the same result. He lifts his head, smiling at me gently.

I sigh in mock frustration. "Did you want to talk some more?" I tease, tightening my grip on his waist even further. He groans and lets go of my wrists, dropping his head so it rests next to mine on the pillow.

"How do you want to do this?" he asks softly. At my puzzled look, he shrugs. "Do you want to be on top? Want me on top? Or we could—"

"Would you believe that I don't care? I want you so bad right now, it doesn't matter. Do you…have a preference?" To be completely honest, I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before. It kind of throws me.

He shrugs again, looking a little embarrassed. "I sort of…" He ducks his head for a moment before composing himself. "I like to watch." He tries to stare me down, defiantly, but all I can do is grin before I flip him over, straddling his hips.

"No problem." I give him another kiss before I sit up, sliding my hands down his chest. "Is this what you had in mind?"

I watch his throat bob as he swallows heavily, but he nods enthusiastically, his hands gripping my waist. "This is good," he chokes out, his hips pushing up gently against mine. "This is really good."

I shift my hips a little, moving onto my knees, and I pause for a second. Everything he said earlier hits me at once. This is our first time. We only get one chance at this. He wants this to be special, and he doesn't want to rush it. I understand that now. This _is_ special. We're starting something new and hopefully wonderful, and this moment shouldn't be ignored. He has done everything he can to make this evening perfect and memorable, and it suddenly overwhelms me. He's amazing. And he loves me. Somehow, for some reason...he loves me. I don't understand it, not yet at least, but I'm not going to squander it.

 _This is important_.

All of it, probably in ways I can't yet know.


	7. Chapter 7

My heart starts to pound and suddenly I'm nervous. Never before have I been nervous about sex, but now, with Tom…I am.

He smiles up at me and my worry abates almost as swiftly as it appeared. I'm not in this alone. We're together and somehow, we'll figure it out.

He reaches down, holding himself steady, and I take a deep breath, slowly sinking down onto him. I exhale shakily as he starts to fill me, and I feel all of my muscles start to quiver. He grabs onto my hips again, guiding me gently. His eyes are huge, his jaw slack, and I can see his entire body shaking in tiny little tremors.

I pause again, wanting to hold onto this moment. He smiles up at me gratefully, closing his eyes as he takes a few deep, steadying breaths. I lift myself up, almost completely off of him, before I slide back down, taking him in all the way. I reach out and grab his sides, my nails digging into his skin, as I let out a long, satisfied moan.

"B'Elanna," he whispers, his eyes opening slowly. He gives my hips a gentle squeeze, but I find myself unable to move just yet. "Everything okay?"

I nod, squeezing my internal muscles around him. He groans, his eyes rolling back briefly before he forces himself to look at me again. This feels different. Something about this feels different from any other man I've been with. As much of a cliché as that feels like—and it was in every one of those horrible human romance novels I managed to get through—there's no denying it. Some things are cliché for a reason.

Slowly, I start to move. Gently, up and down. It's already almost too much. My body is still on high alert and I feel far too close to the edge already. I close my eyes as my head rolls back, letting the sensations wash through me. As long as I don't look at him, it doesn't feel as intense. I lean back, bracing my hands on his knees, and push myself against him harder.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh." The slight change in angle did me no favors.

His hands slide up me, cupping my breasts, kneading them in time with our thrusts. I pick my head up and open my eyes. Not surprisingly, he's staring at me in concentration. He looks like he's trying to take me in all at once. One of his hands moves up, gently holding my cheek. I reach up and grab his forearm, bringing his wrist to my nose and inhaling deeply. I scrape my teeth across his delicate flesh and his hips pound up against me in answer, just for a few seconds before he regroups. His other hand slides down my body, caressing my stomach as he goes, before he finds his way between my thighs. His thumb presses against me and I convulse violently, my orgasm catching me completely off guard. I rock back and forth as fast as I can, moaning with the intensity of it all. His thumb doesn't stop moving, rubbing against me faster and faster.

"Tom!" I yell out, forcing my eyes open—I didn't even realize I'd shut them again—to find him watching with an intensity I haven't seen before as I spasm around him. I try to find words, but all I can do is make noises as I feel like I'm falling into an abyss. I bear down on him, pushing against him as hard as I can before I shove his hand away, collapsing against his chest. My body shudders and I bury my face in his neck, breathing heavily. My hips are still thrusting against his, but slower now. His hands come up and stroke my back. I can still feel him within me, but I'll need a few moments before I can do anything about it.

"This is getting embarrassing," I mumble against his clavicle, not far from where I bit him earlier.

"Really? 'Cause I feel like a fucking stud."

I snort, laughter bursting out of me. I wasn't expecting that at all. I lift my head to find him grinning at me, his expression finally starting to turn cocky. And why shouldn't it? He's made me moan and yell and occasionally scream tonight—repeatedly. He's earned it.

"Maybe I didn't expect us to be so compatible," I tell him, propping my chin on his chest.

He just shrugs noncommittally. "I'm not surprised. All that fighting had to mean something."

"Oh, it did, did it?" I roll my hips a little, squeezing my internal muscles, and he actually whimpers, his eyes slamming shut. I push against him a little harder and my mouth drops open in response, soft moans mixing with his voice. We are ridiculously compatible. I don't know why I fought this for so long.

He wraps his arms around me and shifts a little, and suddenly I'm on my back. I blink up at him in surprise. He moves his hips, sliding back into me. My eyes close in response and I sigh. That sensation is unlike anything else. His head drops down and his lips gently caress my neck. His hips thrust against me gently, and my entire body tingles.

"I thought you liked to watch," I whisper, sliding my hand through the back of his sweaty hair. He chuckles quietly, and I feel his lips make their way up my cheek until our mouths meet. He kisses me slowly, keeping in sync with the rest of his body. I shiver again, sensations flooding through me.

"Sure, watching is nice," he answers softly, punctuating his words with kisses. "But so is this. I like all of it. Everything with you is amazing."

"Oh," I answer. He thrusts against me harder and it turns into a long, deep moan. "Ohhhhhhh." My feet come up and brace on the bed beneath us as I try to give myself as much leverage as possible. This is the only problem I have with not being on top—I don't get to control things. It's hard to trust someone else to know what they're doing, but I suppose Tom's proven himself very capable tonight. He knows what he's doing and he's most definitely taken care of me so far. I moan into his mouth, my hands coming up to grip his sides. He comes up for air, breathing heavily, pressing his forehead to mine.

I tense suddenly. My forehead. I haven't thought about that at all tonight, despite the fact that we've had many discussions about the fact that I'm part Klingon and what it meant for sex. Of all the things to be self-conscious about, and of all the times, the fact that his smooth forehead is pressed against my ridged one has suddenly thrown me for a loop. I can't help but wonder if it feels weird to him, if it's a turn off. I suddenly want to push him away.

I have had maybe two panic attacks in my entire life, so it's perversely fitting that I would seem to be having one now, during my first night with Tom.

I stare up at him, my nerves and self-doubts trying to push away everything that's happened tonight. I'm not sure if he misses it completely or if he just ignores it. He smiles at me adoringly, breathing heavily. His breath is hot on my face as he holds me tight, his body rocking against mine without hesitation.

"I love you," he gasps, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, his arms tightening around me. He knows. He knows exactly what I'm thinking and he's not going to let it get the better of me. "I love you so much."

I shudder, closing my eyes. I try to force myself out of my thoughts. It hasn't mattered at all tonight. It hasn't mattered to Tom ever. I have to try to trust that. I have to try to stop thinking about it, at least for now. We're here together. Finally. I don't want to let my own insecurities to ruin this night.

His thrusting slows down and he frames my face with his hands. We breathe heavily for a few moments, his forehead pressed to mine again. "Come back to me," he whispers. "B'Elanna…"

I open my eyes to find him waiting for me, patiently. The man has endless patience, at least when it comes to me. He shifts his hips, adjusting himself against me, and I gasp. This deep-burning need for him is somehow stronger than my fears, at least for the moment. "I want you," I answer, helplessly. I want him so badly. I know he wants me, too. I've never let this be an issue with any man before, and I'll be damned if I let all of the old insecurities take over now. There's plenty of time for me to be insecure in the morning, and I'm sure I will be, but for now, I just want to focus on everything he's making me feel. I _need_ that.

"Do you want me to stop?" I can feel his entire body vibrating as he forces himself not to move. He shifts himself up onto his elbows, watching me intently.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This is ridiculous. Of all the moments to worry about my forehead and if he's bothered by it, I pick now? In the middle of sex? I tighten my hold on him and shake my head. "Don't stop." He tilts his head at me, searching my face. He would stop, if I wanted him to. He wouldn't judge me for it, and he wouldn't hate me. In the middle of all of my self-doubts, I'm suddenly overcome with love for him. I yank him back down to me. "Don't stop," I repeat, grabbing his face to kiss him again.

A moment later, he starts thrusting again, long, deep strokes. He pulls out of me almost completely before sliding back in, up to the hilt. Within a few moments, all of my insecurities are pushed away. I'm sure they'll be back—they always come back—but for the moment, the sensations are taking over, filling every part of me. I let out a moan as he hits just the right spot and that seems to completely break the mood from just a few moments ago, all doubts about each other dissipating.

"Oh, my God, B'Elanna," he gasps, his hips moving against me in a steady pace. "You feel so amazing." I clench my muscles around him and he whimpers, burying his face in my neck. "You're so good."

He's a talker—who knew? It doesn't bother me, but it is a little entertaining. "Harder," I tell him. I, on the other hand, am not much of a talker, but I will definitely give instructions or encouragement as needed. " _Harder_."

He complies, not moving any faster, but slamming into me after he pulls back every time. My eyes roll as we move together, and I have a moment where I can't believe that I almost let my insecurities ruin this night. My mouth drops open and I clutch his arms, digging my nails into him. My head starts whacking against the headboard rhythmically. It might hurt if everything else didn't feel so good. I bend my knees and push my feet against the bed, trying my hardest to gain some leverage.

He shifts again, moving so that his hands are braced on the bed next to me. He's now hovering over me, his face strained, sweat glistening all over, and even though he's actually beautiful to see, I miss our skin to skin contact. I miss the weight of him on me.

Though, really, this view…his muscles contracting beneath his skin with every thrust, the lines and contours of his body. It's all so incredible. I reach out, sliding my hand down his chest to his hip to pull him to me faster. "Ahhhhhh!" I feel like I'm being pounded into the mattress. It feels incredible. A shudder rolls through me, another orgasm building deep inside me.

"B'Elanna," he groans. "Yesssss. God, yesssss." Sweat rolls down his chest and drops onto me, pooling on my stomach. I gasp, arching my back. He moves faster and I whimper, my other hand grabbing his hip to try to keep him closer. I feel everything start to tingle. My muscles start to shake.

"Tom," I gasp. "Tom…"

He nods, smiling at me. A moment letter, he drops back on top of me, not missing a stroke. My body starts to move unevenly, that wonderful rush coursing through my body. He presses his lips to mine, kissing me frantically for only a few seconds before I pull away, letting out a yell. I try to push against him, but my hips are mostly trapped by his weight. It doesn't matter. In fact, it makes it feel even better. Not being able to move while orgasming is really intense. His lips manage to capture mine again, stifling my moans just a little. I clutch at him desperately, my nails digging into his skin as he slams into me. I twitch violently, my body almost folding in on itself for a few more seconds as I struggle to get closer to him, the last few shocks going through me before I collapse bonelessly, panting.

He buries his face in my neck again, his teeth nipping at my skin as he continues to move. He's probably pretty close to the edge himself. I reach up and grab his shoulders, pushing at him with as much force as I can muster at the moment. "Tom, wait." He grunts, not seeming to hear me at all. "Wait, wait, wait."

His head pops up suddenly, his expression worried. "What?" he asks, stopping completely. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I can't help but smile at his concern. "Absolutely. Do you have a few more minutes in you?"

He laughs breathlessly, his forehead dropping against mine for a few seconds. I feel a brief moment of panic at the gesture before I push it away, burying it deep. "I don't know. Maybe. What'd you have in mind?"

I give him a quick kiss before I push at him gently. "Sit up."

He groans, but does what I ask. He pushes himself off me, and I can't help but feel a little empty as he slips out of me. He winces as the cool air of the room hits his overheated flesh, and I watch, captivated for a few moments as his erection twitches and pulsates. The aroused male form has always fascinated me, and Tom's is no exception. That he's in this state because of me fills me with a sense of power, and I can't help but be impressed with myself that he wants me this badly. All I want to do is touch him, to feel the unique combination of delicately soft with unbelievably firm. I want to learn every single bit of him, and once I've learned it all, I want to do it again.

I reach out, my fingers skimming over his flesh delicately, and he moans. The muscles in his legs bunch up, tensing in response, and a moment later, he shies away, pulling just out of reach. He shakes his head, his chest heaving. "I can't. Too much."

I can certainly understand that. I don't know how I'm even functioning at this point. I've had multiple orgasms before—this is not a unique experience—but it's never been like this. I've never been with someone who has made it his sole purpose to make me come over and over again, without any concern for himself. I don't know if I've wanted someone to give me that sort of attention before, honestly. But Tom has changed everything, without even meaning to. I like having all of this energy focused on me my needs. It's exhilarating. I do understand, though, about feeling like the contact is too much. My body is so tightly wound right now that it feels like a gentle breeze could set me off.

I sit up and he leans back on his haunches, watching me carefully. "Don't worry—I'm not going to bite you," I tease.

"Pity," he answers. "I kinda like it." He's not kidding. I can tell by the look on his face. It's not even that he's willing to go along with these Klingon customs that I can't always seem to control. He likes them. He wants to be a part of them. This man is unbelievable.


	8. Chapter 8

" _Don't worry—I'm not going to bite you."_

" _Pity. I kinda like it."_

I reach out and stroke the mark on his shoulder, red and angry looking. "I did that already, remember?"

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the palm. The gesture is so sweet and innocent, so at odds with what we've been doing and the fact that we're stark naked and painfully aroused, that I don't know what do with myself. So, I lean in and kiss him. His hands move to my waist, pulling me to him gently and I slide forward, straddling his thighs. We both moan a little at the feel of each other but continue kissing, unwilling to lose the contact for even a second.

I move one of my hands between us, stroking him gently for a few moments before I shift a little, sliding back down onto him. He clutches me tightly. I can feel the tension in his entire body. He finally breaks free, his face contorting as he pants. I reach up and stroke the hair back from his face, waiting. I desperately want to move, want to feel him moving within me, but I wait.

"Are _you_ all right?" I finally whisper, and he nods his head just a little, finally opening his eyes.

"Almost lost it for a minute. I'm okay now."

"Are you sure? I can wait—"

He cuts me off, pressing his lips to mine briefly. "I'm good." To prove himself, he thrusts up suddenly and I grab at him, making sure I stay situated on his lap. He thrusts again, but this time I push down, meeting him halfway. We both moan at the sensation, smiling at each other after. I like this position. I feel like we're on even ground now, instead of him having to do all the work. Not that he seemed to mind, but I do like feeling like an active participant.

We move against each other slowly, gazing at each other in open wonder. It feels like this moment is just hitting me for the first time, which is impossible. The enormity of what I'm doing with Tom has been hitting me all night, but I can't help but feel amazed that I'm actually here with him, that this is actually happening. I told him that I love him. He didn't want to get out of it. He _wants_ to be with me. _He loves me_. I show him my worst and he takes it all in stride. This man…this man is everything to me.

He's everything.

That really is huge. It's also very true. He's meant so much to me for so long—first as a friend, then as a confidant, then a companion, and now this. It's hard to wrap my mind around it. No one has ever meant this much to me, and it's scary. It's scary to think that I already need him so badly. It's even scarier to think about life without him.

I lean forward and kiss him, trying to keep myself in check. I don't want to think the heavy thoughts right now. I just want this. I want all the things he's making me feel. I want tonight. I want this moment.

His lips tear away from mine and he breathes heavily against my cheek for a few seconds before he moves down to my neck. I can't help but moan as he works his magic, somehow figuring out just where to kiss, and where to bite. I push against him harder in response, our hips hardly separating at this point. I feel him move down to my shoulder, down to the mark he gave me earlier, and he sucks at it gently.

"God!" The sensation is unbelievable. I tighten my thighs against his hips, thrusting against him violently for a few seconds before I can get myself back under control. His mouth continues its journey, moving across my clavicle and down my chest. I lean back from him just a little and he captures my nipple between his lips. I feel his tongue moving over me in firm swipes before he sucks at me. _Hard_.

I almost explode right then and there, managing to contain myself at the last second, but not before I scream his name at the top of my lungs. His fingers tighten against my back, drawing me closer. I can feel him shaking, but he still meets my hips, thrust for thrust. He moves to my other breast, grabbing that nipple between his teeth, and I really almost pass out. My head swims and my rhythm falters, and it's everything I can do to not fall off him. He clutches me tighter, one hand going down to my hip to help me move against him faster.

He has to be close. There's no way he can last much longer. I'm still truly amazed that he's held on for this long. "You're amazing," I gasp, reaching up to try to hold his head in place.

He manages to break free, moving back up so that we're face to face. His eyes look hazy, unfocused, but he grins at me—that huge, toothy grin that he seems to reserve only for me. Our arms tighten around each other at the same time and he shakes his head. "You are."

"I love you, Tom," I whisper, my chest filing up, my heart pounding for so many reasons. "I love you."

He shudders, and he throws his head back as he yells out, loud, unintelligible sounds. No words—just noise. His movements grow sloppy and jerky, and I can tell he's probably having the orgasm of his life. The cords in his neck stand out, his entire body flushes, his fingers dig into me hard enough to, most likely, leave bruises, and he's completely beautiful. I rock my hips against his furiously, not only to try to draw this out for him—and he deserves as much as I can give him—but because I'm seconds away myself. I look at him again, watching his face contort in pleasure. His body still pushes against mine, his hips pounding against mine furiously. He calls out a loud, sharp, "B'Elanna!" and I'm done.

I let out a long, low wail, not recognizing my own voice as my body convulses. I feel him grab at me, holding me tight against him as we undulate against each other, milking each other for everything we're worth.

I fling myself forward, burying my face in his neck as I pump against him, trying desperately not to bite him again. If I did that now, I know I'd cause him actual damage, and somehow in my lust-addled brain, I know that's not what I want to do. I settle for scratching my nails down his back. He hisses in pain but doesn't loosen his grip. He gives another couple of powerful thrusts before his body droops, limp. I only manage to hold on for a few more seconds before I follow suit, my body collapsing on top of his. I can feel him shaking—though maybe that's me—as he strokes my skin gently. I can hear him whispering to me, but I can't make out the words. I feel his lips on my cheek and I manage to turn my head, meeting him for another kiss. It's slow and gentle, almost teasing, and my body shudders again, aftershocks rushing through me.

I feel my body wilting, but before I can get too far, his hands are on my back, guiding me toward the bed. A moment later, he sprawls out next to me, face down. I almost start to worry about him until he turns his head, facing me. I shift a little so that he can share my pillow, the one pillow that somehow managed to stay on the bed during all of this. I have no idea where the other ones are. I'm sure I'll find them in the morning, scattered around my quarters along with our clothes. Right now, it really doesn't matter. He scoots a little closer, settling next to me on the pillow, his arm draped over me, one of his legs tangled with mine. His eyes still look a little dazed, but he gives me another dazzling grin.

"Holy shit." That's all he has to say and I burst out laughing, reaching up to grab his cheek. I pull him in for a kiss and he moves even closer, pressing his body completely against mine.

"That's an understatement," I answer, grinning back at him.

"We can do that again, right?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Can we do it again tonight?"

Despite my exhaustion and the fact that my body is still quivering like the Jell-O Neelix has taken to serving in the mess hall, I feel myself perk up a little. "You want to?"

"Desperately." He blinks at me blearily. "I just need a little bit of time to recuperate."

I feel a little disappointed, which I know is ridiculous. I just had the best sex possible, and Tom focused all of his attention on me for I don't know how long. He deserves a little rest. Hell, so do I, even though I'm sure I could get myself up and running again, if he were suddenly up for it. "I understand," I tell him, stroking his hair. I do understand, even if my libido is in overdrive.

"Can I wake you up in a couple of hours to go again?" I pause for a second, considering. I'm not one that responds well to being woken up in the middle of the night. Then again, I'm not usually being woken up for sex, either. He mistakes my consideration for hesitation and gives me a worried look. "You're not going to kick me out, are you?"

"And make you stumble down the corridors like a newborn giraffe? I don't think so."

His entire face lights up, making him look like a little boy. "I can stay?"

"Of course you can stay. It'll make round two much easier that way." Obviously, it was the answer he wanted to hear. He leans up and kisses me soundly. "You didn't really think I'd kick you out, did you?"

He shrugs, his arm tightening against me. "I didn't really think about it until just then. I'm just glad I don't have to do the walk of shame."

"Walk of shame? What the hell is that?"

"It's when you sleep with someone then have to stumble home later, usually in the same clothes only now wrinkled and disheveled and often in full view of everyone you don't want to see. It's usually reserved for people at the Academy or college age when hormones are rampant, alcohol is plentiful, and judgment is low."

I chuckle, nuzzling my head against his. "I take it you've walked with shame a few times in your life?"

"Once or twice," he answers, sighing ruefully. "Though, I really didn't feel that embarrassed by it, usually."

I shake my head, pressing my lips to his. He responds eagerly, his foot sliding up and down my calf. "Well, there'll be no walk of shame for you tonight. I can't promise any other night, but I'm keeping you here with me until the morning."

"Now that sounds promising," he says softly, capturing my lips again. I moan quietly in the back of my throat, stroking the arm draped across me. This is nice. This is really nice. The after-sex part, at least for me, has usually included falling almost immediately asleep or getting dressed to leave as quickly as possible. I generally prefer to sleep alone, but it never occurred to me to kick out Tom. The morning might present an interesting situation with trying to sneak him out of my quarters without managing to alert the crew to the fact that we slept together. If need be, I'm sure I can rig up a site-to-site transport and cover my tracks fairly successfully. Regardless, it's not something I plan to think about for a few hours. I'm actually really interested in finding out what it's like to sleep next to Tom.

I shiver suddenly, though this time it's because I'm cold. My body has finally cooled off from all of the exertion. He nods, shivering in response. "You're right. It's freezing in here." He sits up, patting around for the blankets, and I reach out to touch his back.

"I doubt they're on the bed anymore." The amount of activity my bed saw in the last few hours is essentially a guarantee that it's in shambles. I certainly don't regret it, but that amount of motion isn't without its consequences. He scoots off the bed, staggering a few steps as he looks around for the covers. I have to admit—it's nice to have someone do this for me. Within moments, he's tugging the blankets up, crawling back into bed beside me. He suddenly looks very tired, and I have to admit that he's more than earned it. He did so much for me tonight, he has every right to be exhausted.

He settles against me again, still on his stomach, pulling the covers over us as he gets comfortable. "Computer, dim the lights," I say as he rests his head once more next to mine on the pillow. My quarters grow dark, illuminated only by the ambient light over my bed. He presses a kiss to my cheek and I can't help but smile. He's ridiculously sweet.

Everything is suddenly very quiet, though. Even the hum of the engines, constant and soothing, seems to have disappeared. I close my eyes, trying to will away what I fear is about to become a very awkward silence.

"Do you remember our first kiss?"

My eyes fly open and I turn my head, finding him watching me sleepily. "What?"

"Our first kiss?"

"Of course I do. It was after the first time you took me sailing on Lake Como. You walked me to my door and I—"

He shakes his head, smiling at me slightly. "That wasn't it."

"What do you mean?" I distinctly remember kissing him for the first time just a few feet away from where we are right now. Is he getting that one mixed up with some other time? Or does he mean the first time _he_ initiated a kiss?

"It was on Sakari."

"Oh." Of course it was. I let out a sigh, feeling disappointed. "You know, I don't really remember a lot of what happened there. Most of it's a blur. I remember biting you and wandering off, and I remember fighting over that weapon, but after that…everything's hazy. We kissed that day?"

"Just a little. Only for a few seconds. I couldn't help myself." He sounds ashamed, and my heart goes out to him. I tighten my arms around him, trying to let him know that it's all right. "You were playing me, B'Elanna. You were telling me all the things I wanted to hear and I…I couldn't stop it."

And now _I_ feel ashamed. "Tom, I—"

"I don't want you to apologize," he interrupts, giving me a squeeze. "That's not what I'm getting at."

"Well, what was I telling you?" I haven't thought about the details of what went on during that time. I've never asked anyone about it, either. I have flashes of it sometimes. I remember beating the hell out of Vorik, at least parts of it, but most of it is very fuzzy and dreamlike, and not something that I've ever wanted to relive. Nevertheless, it's obviously stuck with Tom all this time.

"I don't know if you remember, but I kept turning you down." That rings a few bells for me, actually, and it makes sense. No matter what he might want people to believe, he's a good guy. He wouldn't take advantage of someone when she was helpless. "At one point, you told me that you knew what I felt for you and that you'd been hiding your feelings for me, that you felt the same way. I knew it was a lie—I _knew_ it—but we kissed and I couldn't stop myself. Seriously, B'Elanna, as soon as I touched your lips, I was done. It was a lost cause. I knew that I'd wait for you for as long as it took. But I just…took advantage of the situation for a few seconds. I kissed you the way I'd wanted to kiss you for months. You let me. For a few moments, I let myself forget that you weren't yourself and just kissed you."

Even in the dim light, I can see his glum expression. I rub his back, trying to get his attention. "It's all right."

"No, it's not!" he insists. "It's not okay. I took advantage of you. I knew that you weren't in the right state of mind but I didn't care. I just wanted to live in a world where you wanted me as much as I wanted you. It was stupid. I've felt bad about it ever since."

"I forgive you," I whisper. Even though I don't remember it, I forgive him anyway. From all accounts and what little I can remember, I was out of control that day, and I don't doubt that I was willing to say or do anything to get Tom to do what I wanted. "If that's what happened, then I'm just as much to blame as you. I took advantage of your feelings for me."

"Yeah, but you had a chemical imbalance."

"Tom…do you think all of that came out of nowhere?"

He lifts his head, his expression puzzled. "What?"

"Whatever happened down there—do you think it was just case of you being in the right place at the right time?"

He blinks at me, and I can tell I've sort of lost him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, do you think that I was ready to jump whoever I saw first? Do you think that Neelix was a viable option for me during all of that? Or do you think maybe those urges came from somewhere?"

"I…I never thought about that."

"You thought you were just the closest warm body?" He shrugs, and I can't help but wonder if he's actually been beating himself up over this for months. "Tom, I may not have been in control of my instincts, and I may have said some things that I shouldn't have said, but that doesn't mean it came out of nowhere. I was in _very_ deep denial, but I wouldn't have gone for you if there hadn't been something about you I was already drawn to."

He looks completely shocked. "Really?"

"Just think about it. If that whole mating urge thing worked that way, I would have just…" I pause, shuddering at the thought. I can't even get myself to say the words. "I would have _you know_ 'ed with Vorik. I wasn't attracted to him. I wasn't attracted to Neelix, either. But, despite my best efforts, and because you relentlessly pursued me, I definitely felt things for you. So, I promise you, when I came onto you that day, it wasn't because I didn't have a better offer. You were what I wanted." Truthfully, I'd spent the better part of the night before that mission pacing around my quarters, thoughts of Tom running rampant through my brain. It didn't make much sense at the time—neither why I had so much energy that I was nearly climbing the walls nor why all I could think about was just being close to Tom—but after all was said and done and the blood fever had been purged from my system, there was no getting around it. Ready to admit it or not, there was no doubt that I had strong, strange feelings for the guy.

His lips curl up in a smile for a few seconds before his face falls. "But still…I can't help feeling like I took advantage of you that day. I was in control of myself, and it was my job to look out for you. Instead, I lost control and let myself get carried away."

I sigh. I can tell that he's bound and determined to feel badly about this, and that's the last thing that I want. "Tom…by all accounts, you were always in control of yourself that day. You wouldn't let me do anything I'd regret, no matter how much you wanted to." He still doesn't look convinced. "Well, the first kiss I remember happened just outside my quarters," I tell him, pulling him closer to me. "You were sweet and gentle, and you let me take the lead. I remember our first kiss being nearly perfect. That's the one that matters to me. We were both in control of ourselves and we both knew what we were doing, and I knew then that I wanted to kiss you again."

"Really?" he asks, peaking up at me. "You're not upset about…"

"About something I can't remember, or about you trying your hardest to take care of me when I needed help? No, I'm not upset. That part doesn't matter. What mattered to me after that was that I knew I could trust you. I couldn't remember much of what happened, but I knew you were someone that wouldn't hurt me."

He's silent for a while, his breathing so steady that I'm pretty sure he's fallen asleep, when he speaks suddenly. "That was when I knew I had a crush on you, you know."

I look at him in surprise, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Tom Paris gets crushes on girls?"

"It's been known to happen. But really, that's actually when I knew it was so much more than a crush. I'll be honest, I had an inkling before that, but I knew as soon as I kissed you on Sakari that I was in trouble."

I run my fingers through his hair, sighing. "Thank you for being so patient with me," I whisper.

He presses his lips against my throat, and I can feel him smiling. "I told you—I would have waited for you forever. It doesn't matter how hard you pushed me away, I was always going to come back to you. Same goes for the future, B'Elanna. Try to push me away as much as you want, but I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me now."

I lean down and capture his lips, unable to find any words. I don't know if words would be good enough right now. We kiss slowly, our arms tightening, our legs sliding against each other. I'm not sure how much of what we're saying at this point in the evening is a result of the amazing sex and excess of emotions that goes along with it, or because it's what we truly feel. I don't suppose it matters much at the moment. Still, I like the idea of being stuck with Tom for a while.

We come up for air, our foreheads pressed together, and I'm a little surprised that I don't feel that sense of panic like I did before. Must be the euphoria. "Tom," I whisper. "Did we…never mind."

"What?" he asks, just as softly. "Did we what?"

"Nothing. It's ridiculous. Just ignore me."

"It's just me, B'Elanna. You can ask me anything."

It really feels embarrassing and childish to even consider asking, but I've come this far. "Was that making love?" My voice is so quiet that I can hardly hear myself, and I almost hope that Tom can't hear me, either. It sounds even more stupid out loud than it did in my head.

"I like to think so," he answers. "I'm no expert, but it felt like more than just sex to me."

Relief rushes through me, mostly because he's not going to tease me about asking something that sounds so juvenile and inexperienced. "Me, too."

He kisses me, softly, before settling his head next to mine again. His arm drapes across my stomach, stroking my hip gently. "I love you," he mumbles groggily, and this time I'm positive that he's nearly asleep.

"I love you, too." He lets out a deep, heavy sigh and his body relaxes. Within moments, his arm is dead weight on me, his breathing deep and heavy. I take the opportunity just to watch him. He looks so much younger than normal asleep. He actually looks almost innocent.

I chuckle to myself, watching him shake against me slightly. There was absolutely nothing innocent about what we just did.

Innocent. God. He must think I'm strangely naïve, asking a question like that. _Was that making love?_ Hell. That's so embarrassing. But I was being honest earlier when I told him that I've never considered sex in those terms before. It's not as if I've never put feelings into the act—I'm not exactly devoid of emotion. I guess I just had to make sure with Tom. I mean, it's not as if I came into this relationship inexperienced. I'm sure he knows that. Technically, I've not been alive for that many years, but it's fair to say I've gotten around. I have no shame in that. Still, he does have a few years on me and, if the rumors and self-aggrandizing turn out to be true, more experience than most everyone on the ship combined.

It's just that this thing with Tom is completely new. I know with absolute certainty that I've never been in love before. I think I'm just having trouble processing it all. That's probably why I fought him for so long. Loving someone, being loved by someone…it's just something that I've never had to deal with.

I shake my head a little. I need to get out of my thoughts. The trouble is that while my body is exhausted—wonderfully, terrifically, satisfyingly exhausted—my mind is definitely travelling at warp nine.

I look down at Tom again, his face still so peaceful, his body so relaxed and at ease next to mine. I love him so much it's scary. I think that's what he feels for me, too. Maybe not as much, at least not yet, but I think he's on his way.

I sigh, trying to relax my body enough to sleep. I do envy Tom this seeming ability to fall asleep at a moment's notice. Must be a holdover from his Academy days when sleep was a precious commodity and most cadets learned how to shut their eyes and rest in what little down time they had. I was never one of those students. Of course, I can run on less sleep than most, but I was still never able to turn off my brain the way others could.

Tom mentioned the other day that he wished he'd known me then. The feeling is mutual, even though I still firmly believe that he wouldn't have liked me very much. Then again, I didn't think anyone could really like me at that point—I know _I_ certainly wasn't terribly fond of myself. Hell, I think Tom and I might have even been at the Academy together. I'd have to check the dates with him, but our age difference matches up. He would have been in one of his last years when I started. Not that our paths had any reason to cross. Sometimes, though—especially lately—I wonder what would have happened if we'd met back then. More importantly, what would have happened if he'd been interested in me. Would I have pushed him away then?

Probably not. I was into scrawny human guys at that point. Max Burke certainly fit that bill, and we didn't even date that long. I probably pushed him away, too. Still, I can't but wonder if knowing Tom back then would have kept me in the Academy. Maybe having him around, even as a friend, would have been helpful. Having someone to rely on, the way I've relied on him for the last few years, might have been the difference I needed. Maybe having someone to talk me off a ledge would have helped so I wouldn't have gone flying off the handle any time someone looked at me sideways. A pressure valve, like Neelix suggested. Not that I would have necessarily let Tom get that close, but it's interesting to think about.

Not that I plan to mention this to him, at least not for a while. If I did, I'm sure he'd cook up some holodeck program that involved the two of us being teenagers. I think I need some time—years, probably—before I want to investigate _that_ possibility.

I feel Tom sigh against my neck, his body wiggling a little closer to me before he settles again. I drape my arm over his, absently stroking his shoulder. My thoughts are becoming strange and scrambled—I must be more tired than I thought. His body _does_ feel really nice pressed against mine. Considering that I frequently feel chilly—a hazard of space travel and my Klingon half's low tolerance for the cold—sharing a bed with someone actually feels good. I could be imagining things, but he seems to generate more heat than most. Of course, skin-to-skin contact creates more heat than anything else. I'm sure it won't be hard to convince Tom to sleep naked as frequently as possible.

I turn into him just a little, readjusting my arms around him. We mold together perfectly. Well, even more perfectly. I kiss his forehead and rest my cheek on the top of his head. I force my eyes shut, though I don't know how much good it'll do. Too much has happened in too short a time, and I need to try to work through it all. I know it won't happen right now, but that doesn't seem to stop my brain from trying.

Unfortunately, that's the all too human part of me. The excessively female human part of me. The part that always thinks too much. I doubt that Klingon women think this much about anything. They're all fueled by emotions.

Gee…that sounds like me, too.

How the hell has Tom managed to deal with me for as long as he has? How long will he be willing to put up with me and my strange mix of rash behavior and over-thinking? A few weeks? Months? Years? When I start arguing with him about how to raise the kids?

My eyes fly open. _Kids_? We've slept together once and I'm thinking about kids? My heart pounds, feeling like it's caught in my throat. No. No, I'm not thinking about…that. It was just my mind trying to figure out how long I have with Tom until he can't deal with me anymore. I doubt we'll ever get to the "let's have kids" portion of our relationship. I don't think I'll ever want kids, period. With anyone. I'd make a terrible mother.

…He'd be a good father, though. Tom just has that sort of personality that lets you know he'd somehow be a natural at childrearing, at least once he sets his mind to it.

Not that it matters, because it's not going to be an issue, at least not with us.

No way.

Somehow, though, no matter how much I protest to myself, my brain is quite willing to supply a whole slew of images, all of them relating to some distant future that includes Tom and a baby. A baby. I wouldn't have any idea what to do with a baby. I've held them before, but I've never been responsible for one. Other than spending some time with Naomi Wildman when she was small, and never on my own, my time with babies has been extraordinarily limited. And I'm all right with that.

Nevertheless, all I can see is Tom holding a baby— _our_ baby. Oh, God, our baby. _No, no, no_. But there he is, in my mind's eye, holding a tiny bundle, looking at it as if it contains all the answers to the universe. I shake my head a little, trying to get rid of the image, but it won't go away. It's probably going to haunt me for a long time to come. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, it's not the worst mental image. Even though that's not going to be my or our future, it's very easy to picture Tom looking at his own child with open adoration.

I wonder if he has a preference for a boy or a girl. I don't think he'd treat one any differently than the other. He'd teach a son or a daughter everything he knows, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to show either or both how to pilot a starship. Something tells me, though, that he'd love a daughter. I think he'd be beside himself with a girl.

It's not even an issue, though. I don't need to waste any time even considering it because it's not going to happen. On this ship, we can only focus on the day-to-day. The future is even less certain out here than it usually is. Even if that future was something I wanted to consider, it wouldn't do me any good. We exist from one disaster to the next in the Delta Quadrant, and most of us try not to plan our next meal, never mind our next decade.

"Stop thinking, B'Elanna," I hear Tom mumble against my neck, making me jump. "Go to sleep."

I laugh a little to myself. I don't know how he knew that I was making myself dizzy with worry, but I'm not surprised that he figured it out. He does know me fairly well by this point.

"All right," I whisper, tightening my grip on him a little. "All right."

I doubt he heard me; his breathing is already deep and steady again. I let my eyes drift shut once more, focusing on trying to get my exhalations in time with Tom's. For now, I really do want to focus only on the immediate. There's no point in getting excited or worried about a future with him when we've only officially been together for about a day. I'm sure it'll be a while before those images of Tom with a baby start to disappear—that's not the sort of thing that you can just will away in an instant. But right now, all I really want to do is focus on the way he feels in my arms.

And the possibility that we'll wake up in a few hours and do this all over again.

I feel a smile spread over my face. That's definitely the kind of future I can focus on.

* * *

I could have split this into two chapters, but I figured if the last part didn't include any of the good stuff, it wouldn't feel like it was worth reading. Anyway, I've been reading Voyager fic for a _long_ time. Some of it has been good, some not—on occasion, I've dabbled in it myself. Most of it went unposted, and since it was written on actual paper (showing my age over here), it's likely gone for good. No big loss there, I assure you. Anyway, I've found that writers tend to characterize B'Elanna one of two ways—raging, stereotypical Klingon, or weak, emotional, sappy human. I'm not saying that either of these are wrong, either. I just think that both are more accurate than just one or the other. She's in constant conflict with herself. She feels everything, often all at once. My least favorite bit of canon, or fic-canon, is about Klingons not having tear ducts. Makes no sense. Even if they don't typically cry (which also seems ridiculous, since they're a boisterous, emotional group of people, and crying is usually on that spectrum somewhere), they would need tear ducts to clean out their eyes. Perhaps they would need those even more, considering they evolved to be warriors, and being able to clean out your eyes seems important. But I digress.

I think it does a disservice to her character to portray her as constantly angry, or constantly simpering. She's a badass. She's tough and smart and vulnerable. I wanted to try to hit on all of those things. Also, I wanted Tom and B'Elanna on moderately equal footing. I don't think she's the sort to deal with someone she could push around for very long. I also think he would have put a lot of work into making sure he was physically capable for her. Look at Blood Fever—he was able to hold his own against her, even when she really wanted to hit him. While it's not wrong to assume she'd still be stronger than him, I just think he wouldn't be as weak as he's often written to be. (Whether or not he was actually a smooth operator in his past is not something I can answer—he was probably drunk and clumsy, but that's never really prevented someone from getting laid) At times, sure, he's probably a sub to her dom, but I would think it'd go both ways, if nothing else because it would show her trust in him.

I couldn't resist throwing in that bit at the end about B'Elanna imagining having a child with Tom. I mean, she's a girl. A half-human one at that. That's just the way girls think, whether they want to or not. I know we all know how this turns out, but I figure at some point (multiple points, really), these things crossed her mind. His, too, but definitely hers if "interesting" wasn't enough for her.

On a completely different note, anyone else completely heartbroken about Carrie Fisher? I can't be the only one that's been sobbing on and off since I heard.

And not to end on a complete bummer, thank you all so much for reading this!


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